


The King's Indian Attack

by Nectere



Series: The Emerald Glass [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chess Metaphors, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, F/M, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts First Year, Manipulative Dumbledore, Muggleborn Slytherins, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Well-Meaning Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6975322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nectere/pseuds/Nectere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurora Sinistra spends most of her time watching the stars. She's no centaur, but she's better than Trelawney. In the summer of 1991, she has a plan redeem the reputation of Slytherin House, and maybe some of the people inside it. Recruiting Severus Snape to help her over a game of chess, the two teachers undertake a gambit of their own that leads the Boy-Who-Lived and the Brightest Witch of Her Age into Slytherin House and friendships with Draco Malfoy.</p><p>However, there is something strange going on at the school. Can the three figure out what it is that Professor Quirrell is up to and stop it? How will the changes in House and friendships effect Harry's relationship with Dumbledore and the headmaster's plans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Room Where It Happens

Aurora Sinistra sat in the Slytherin Common Room, a glass of elderberry wine in her hand, sitting in one of the carved chairs, considering and waiting for something, before calling out her move to the chessboard in front of her.

Severus Snape shook his head, and whirled the firewhiskey in his own glass, taking a sip before calling out his answering move. “Well, Aurora? What did you see in your stars this time? You only want to play chess when you’re planning something.” The astronomy teacher was one of his few friends in this blasted castle.

Aurora leaned back, staring at the ceiling, into the depths of the black lake as if it was the sky. “There’s something happening, Sev.” She murmured quietly. “There’s two ways things could go.”

Severus dismissed most divination out of hand, especially anything that came from the mouth of Sybil Trelawney, but he had experience enough with Aurora and her stars and more scholarly methods to listen more carefully. “I believe everything has been written for us by Dumbledore.”

“Yes.” Aurora allowed. “He has great skill as a chessmaster, there’s no doubt about that. But he naturally stacks the board against Slytherin. It’s his Gryffindor colours and dislike of the Dark Lord coming out.” She moved another piece, as if to punctuate her statement.

Severus arched a brow. Aurora would never suggest siding with the Dark Lord, being one of the rare Slytherin muggleborns -- which was why Albus had employed her, to shove it in the face of the blood purists. “And you see another route?” He moved his bishop thoughtfully, wondering what the witch had seen.

“We play white.” Aurora answered, taking one of his pieces as if to punctuate her statement. “Gryffindors love red...let them play it for once.” She clucked her tongue. “It’s time for Slytherin to throw off the mantle of villains. Hercules has had his time as hero, it’s Odysseus’s time now.”

“How do you propose we do this?” Severus asked, interest piqued. While he believed his own well of guilt was justly earned and well-deserved, he hated to see what happened to his charges every year, among the suspicious and judgmental students who knew little of what the world was like. 

Aurora smirked, knowing she had her friend well and truly hooked, and ordered the chessmen back to where they were. “Pawn to E4.” She murmured, watching as it moved. “We attack his plan by moving first.”

“If he moves French?” Severus asked, studying the board. “Pawn to E6.” 

“Then we take him off guard.” Aurora replied. “We just need the right pieces. Pawn to D3, instead of D4, where he would expect it.”

“He’d move Pawn D5, it’s the early game. What pieces are you looking at?”

“Knight D2.” Aurora answered, in turn, leaning back. “Well, not the Weasley boy, as _he’s_ planning. There’s a muggleborn on the list with a very interesting chart.”

Severus’s eyebrows jumped up. No matter what the stringent purists liked to think, muggleborns in Slytherin were rare, but they did happen. Aurora had been the last, because of the fear that was pushed into them from the word go with warnings of Death Eaters and the ignorant and incorrect assumption that all Death Eaters were Slytherin. “How will you get around the fear? Minerva or Pomona will not shy from warnings of bigotry. Knight F6.”

“Knight G to F3.” Aurora countered, her smirk deepening. “Because you will be the one to go. He always makes you do at least a few, you just won’t be choosing at random this time.”

“Me?” Severus repeated, scoffing. “I’m sure _that_ will endear her to Slytherin House.” He studied the board, for a moment. “What if he goes Sicilian instead of French?” He reset the board. 

Looking at the blank board, Aurora grinned and started with the exact same opening move. “You can actually. Both her sun and moon are in Virgo, it’s her mind and her ambition you have to appeal to. Her cunning is mostly focused on defence more than offence, with Mars in Cancer, but if you treat her like you do the older Slytherins and cleverer Claws, she’ll respect your knowledge, and you.”

“Pawn to C5. Why can’t you do this, since you’re the one who came up with the plan?” Severus queried. 

“Too many eggs in one basket. Besides, I live in Stanwell Moor when I’m not in my tower. I go through Little Whinging to get to Staines.” She smirked. “When things go badly, I plan on helping Harry as much as I can before he sends Minerva or Hagrid. If I get both, it’ll be suspicious.”

Severus could see multiple problems with the plan, but he could also see why it would be utterly unsuspected, especially since he had taken down all of the listening charms for the summer and Aurora had a better than most relationship with the castle. The walls would not inform Albus of their scheming. If they could press the advantage… “Do you really think having us introduce them will make a difference?”

“Absolutely.” Aurora said, pressing her advantage with her next move. “The reaction they have to who introduces them to magic always has an effect.”

“It didn’t for you.” Severus replied, taking the most logical move on the board. “Minerva recruited you.”

“And I disliked her from the word go.” Aurora admitted, shaking her head as she moved a pawn. “The way she looked at our home, at my parents that day, like we were Peckham trash...I wanted nothing to do with her.” It was one of the reasons that she had bought her parents a nice little cottage in the Surrey village with her salary and the proceeds from her research.

Severus didn’t reply, he knew very well how frosty the relationship between Minerva and Aurora was, nothing needed to be said on that account, even though he doubted that Minerva had intended her attitude that day to be quite so judgmental as Aurora had perceived it. “A muggleborn and Harry Potter, here? The Slytherins may not accept them, unless someone takes them under their wing, someone they’ll trust.”

“Of course.” Aurora agreed. “You have a godson, after all.” 

Severus was so surprised, he choked on his firewhiskey. “ _ Draco? _ ” he repeated. “You want  _ Draco Malfoy _ to stand up for Harry Potter and a  _ muggleborn? _ ”

Aurora laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t be so shocked. Lucius stood up for you, a poor half-blood. I’m sure Draco understands making connections, and Harry is famous.”

“And the muggleborn?” Severus asked, wrinkling his nose. “Lucius has done a number on that front, Narcissa doesn’t curb his tongue in front of the boy.”

“Advise him.” Aurora suggested, easily. “I know Lucius has you preparing the boy for school; add social niceties to the list. We both know he respects you. He wants to make Lucius proud, yes...but you’ve been trying to mitigate the effect on him as much as possible all along.”

Severus glared at her, but didn’t argue. “This summer will be very interesting.”

“It will, indeed.” Aurora agreed. “Checkmate.” Her braids swung as she knocked over the red king with an air of pride.


	2. A Whole New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus introduces Draco to new ideas and Hermione to the wizarding world while Aurora introduces Harry to the idea that he's a wizard and a new friend.

Severus had his moments of doubt when he wasn’t with Aurora, reminded of all he owed Dumbledore, but then he remembered Lily as a child and how Petunia had treated her. He reminded himself of the eleven-year-olds booed at Sortings, some who went to his door begging to be re-sorted because their parents wouldn’t approve of them being Sorted into the house of Death Eaters. He had a duty of care to them as well...and he could do more to protect Lily’s son in Slytherin than watching from a distance. If they were careful and cunning, it could work.

Today, he arrived at Malfoy Manor for his weekly tutoring session with his godson. Lucius had wanted to employ a tutor, but Narcissa had uncharacteristically decided against following tradition and put her foot down, insisting that she would handle much of Draco’s pre-Hogwarts education, and Lucius had asked his old friend to check in weekly and make sure that his wife wasn’t making his son soft as well as give him a leg up in potions. Severus didn’t mind the time spent with his godson by any means. He was a hard man, but he did care about Draco.

He made his way down to the Malfoy potion lab, where sure enough, Draco was waiting, looking pleased. “Hullo, Uncle Severus. Was the end of term better this year?”

“About the same as always.” Severus said dismissively. “I’m looking forward to this fall, where at least I’ll know _one_ of my students will be paying attention to my classes.”

“Yes, sir!” Draco said, all white teeth and a proud set to his shoulders. “Are you going to let me brew something this summer? I want to be ahead of _everyone_ , even the other Slytherins.”

“We’ll see how your ingredient preparation is coming along. If you’re doing better, than yes.”  Severus allowed. “Proper ingredient preparation requires what?”

“Patience, precision, and proper handling.” Draco answered quickly.

“Much like life.” Severus agreed with a nod of approval. “Start with skinning the shrivelfigs, and we’ll see how you’re doing.” They fell into a familiar rhythm, where Draco did his best to produce high-quality ingredients under the watchful eye of the exacting Potions’ Master, while Severus watched.

“Are you excited to start Hogwarts this fall?” Severus asked. “Or will you miss your house-elf and freedom to do as you like?”

Draco straightened his spine unconsciously. “I am looking forward to being a credit to Slytherin House and my family.” He replied, in a kind of oft-repeated tone, suddenly skittish.

“Draco,” Severus said, shaking his head. “I’m sure you will be, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

Draco frowned at the shrivelfig, he had squeezed it a bit too tight, and now it was bruised. He put it to the side and picked up another. “I’m excited.” He admitted. “Father keeps threatening to send me to Durmstrang, though.”

Severus snorted. “He won’t get that past Narcissa.” Lucius knew better than to push his wife if he wanted a happy life. Draco might think that Lucius was the head of the family, but Narcissa knew how to turn that head the way she liked. “It will be very different, though. Are you prepared for that?”

Draco’s forehead creased, both in concentration on the shrivelfig, and the question. “How do I prepare for what I don’t know?” He asked, _slightly_ , but only slightly, more willing to talk about his concerns to his godfather than his father.

“Hogwarts is very different.” Severus allowed. “You won’t be sheltered, like you are here. Slytherins still protect their own, of course, and I’ll be there if needed, but you’ll be meeting far more than just Mr. Nott and Mr. Crabbe.”

“Good, I’d get bored if it was just those two around all the time.” Draco muttered. “Father says Harry Potter is going to be going to Hogwarts this year, and the only way that he could have defeated the Dark Lord as a baby was if he was going to be a great dark wizard.”

“Harry Potter will be in your year, yes.” Severus answered, with a shake of his head. “Whether he becomes a great wizard, dark or otherwise, is yet to be seen.” He had heard the theory that Lily’s son was meant to be a great dark wizard before, many of the old Death Eaters who followed power took the story as fact, unwilling or unable to believe that he could be defeated by a mere child with no great power.

“Well, that and Hogwarts is full of mudbloods and he says that Dumbledore is a dotty old muggle-lover.”

“I suggest you remove that word from your vocabulary before you reach Hogwarts.” Severus said, mildly. “If you use it in front of any teachers other than me, or are reported using it, the punishment would be quite severe.”

Draco paused, knowing it was a word he was not supposed to use in polite society, much like he was not supposed to talk about what happened during the war. “Surely it’ll be okay in the Common Room?” He asked, cautiously.

“There are quite a few students older than you who are half-bloods with muggleborn parents, Draco. If you want one of them to hex you for insulting his mother, you may try it.” Severus said lightly, taking hold of the bruised shrivelfig Draco had set aside. While not all of it would be salvageable, there was no use in letting the unbruised bits go to waste. “That’s assuming Professor Sinistra doesn’t overhear you say it, she does like to spend her free time in the Common Room like she’s still a student. She’ll come up with some devious punishment for insulting her, or if she’s tired she’ll just hang you outside her tower by your ankle.”

Draco’s forehead creased further, his grey eyes screwed up as he stopped bothering to even try properly peeling the shrivelfig. “I thought Professor Sinistra was the other Slytherin professor?” He had heard his father rant about the fact that Dumbledore slighted Slytherin by padding the staff with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

“She is.” Severus said, plainly. “She’s also a muggleborn.”

Draco’s eyes flew wide and he dropped his knife. “But...I thought...Slytherin only takes those from good families, those with bloodline.”

Severus turned to look at his godson, going very serious. “I think you’re old enough to discuss these things like an adult, and not a child, Draco, so I’m going to treat you like one, and I want you to think very seriously about what I’m going to say. Let it sink into that brain of yours and simmer like a potion, do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir!” Draco said, suddenly at full attention, and puffing up slightly at the idea that he had transitioned from child to adult, at least when it came to this discussion.

“Slytherin is about _ambition_ , Draco. It’s cunning, determination, shrewdness... _power_ , and potential for power. It has been historically a house associated with blood purity, but think about this, and think about it hard: if a muggleborn has enough of those traits to be worthy enough to be in Slytherin, is that someone you truly want to make an enemy of, or is that someone you want want to be your ally?”Severus chose his words carefully, knowing how to appeal to the boy. He held up a hand when Draco opened his mouth. “Don’t answer now, Draco. _Simmer._ ”

* * *

 Hermione Jean Granger was muttering under her breath as she lugged her overfilled backpack into the house. It was summer holidays, which meant she could catch up on her reading and prepare for her next term. This was her fifth such trip to the London Library this summer, as she shamelessly abused the membership that her parents had bought her. The librarians thought she was an amusing anomaly and she tolerated their smiles for the miles of books that they guarded.

“Hermione, sweetheart?” Priam Granger called from the parlour. “Could you come here please? We have a guest.”

Hermione blinked, surprised by the idea of the guest. Usually the only guests that they had were her parents’ assistants at work, who were more like family than guests, or members of the extended Granger clan who were more like guests than family. If the mystery guest had been a member of either of those groups, her father wouldn’t have sounded quite so choked. “Of course, Dad!” She called in answer, before checking her reflection in the entrance hall mirror and smoothing her jeans quickly. She placed her backpack on the stand and quickly made her way to the parlour.

The scene was a strange one, as both her parents were seated on the settee and looking rather pale, while in one of the armchairs sat the mysterious guest. She took the opportunity to study him as quickly as she could without being rude. He looked somewhat awkward in his suit, as if he was unaccustomed to wearing one, and his hair was longish for someone in a suit like that. “I would have come back from the library earlier, had I known we were having a guest.”

“It was a surprise for us as well, Hermione.” Eliza said with a smile. “This is Professor Severus Snape, he’s from an...exclusive boarding school in Scotland.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Professor.” Hermione said, instantly intrigued. “Were you named for the Roman emperor?”

“It’s a family name, Miss Granger.” Severus replied, amused by both her quick appraisal of the situation and her knowledge of history. “If you would take a seat, I have something to discuss with you.”

Hermione quickly took a seat in one of the other armchairs. She had the utmost respect for educators, and there was an odd feeling bubbling up in her stomach and a horrible kind of hope that she could escape going to school with everyone from her prep school. “Yes, sir.”

Severus tented his fingers thoughtfully. “Has anything ever happened to you that you could not quite explain, Miss Granger?”

Hermione’s face closed down right away, and she glanced to the side. “I’m...not sure to what you could be referring, Professor.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. She had the diplomatic evasion down, but she would have to learn to hide her lies better in Slytherin. “Really?” He drawled. “You’ve never made a wish and it came true? Never been angry or frustrated and had something happen?”

Hermione bit her lip nervously. “Sometimes when I don’t have enough room in my bag, I turn around and I suddenly have more room...and on my seventh birthday, Mum invited my class over for a party, and one of the boys kept teasing me, so I wished on my candles that he would just...be quiet, and his tongue swelled to the point he couldn't speak...but that’s all just coincidences.” She leaned back slightly. “Right?”

“No, Miss Granger.” Severus disagreed, amused at her stories. They were infinitely more interesting than the stories of disappearing sprouts and parsnips he often encountered on these visits. The birthday story reminded him strongly of his own Langlock. “That’s magic. You are a witch.”

“A witch.” Hermione repeated dubiously. “There’s no such thing.”

“Allow me to demonstrate.” Severus said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his wand. He flicked his wand at the vase of orchids on the coffee table, and incanted clearly: “Vitrum orchidae.”

Hermione stared as the pink orchids turned to glass. Unable to help herself, she stood and reached out to touch one of them. Logic told her that it was impossible, but at the same time she couldn’t argue with the cool glass beneath her fingers. She turned back to him so quickly, her hair whipped around and caused a breeze. “Teach me.” She said, eyes hungry.

“Hermione…” Eliza said slowly. “Are you sure? You could finish preparatory and we could find you a nice independent school…”

“Mum, I have _magic_.” Hermione said, unable to believe the words she was saying. “Real magic! If I made Eddie Gibson unable to speak, how dangerous could it be if I don’t learn to control it?”

“She has a point.” Severus said mildly. “Untrained, her accidental magic will get stronger and harder to control. It was the main reason Hogwarts was founded.”

“Tell us more about this school.” Priam said, slowly.

“Hogwarts was founded in the ninth century to educate young wizards and witches. It is the highest ranked magical school in Europe, with the largest private library of any institution in wizarding Britain.” Severus answered. “The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore is classed as a Grand Sorcerer, serves as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the high court, and as the leader of the International Confederation of Wizards.”

“Well, it certainly _sounds_ impressive.” Eliza allowed. “Is this what you want, Hermione?”

“Yes!” Hermione said, excitedly.

“Very well.” Priam agreed with a sigh. “We always knew you were special, dear.” Even as he said it though, there was something strained under it all.

* * *

It all moved quite quickly from the moment Hermione’s parents agreed, and a scant hour later, she was watching as a seemingly normal wall open up to reveal a strange new world beyond, like something in one of her books. “This is real?”

“As real as your own home.” Severus answered, fighting to keep his patience. He hadn’t expected it to be this difficult, but something about Hermione’s need for answers and her doubts reminded him of Lily and it tasted bitter on his tongue. “Welcome to Diagon Alley, the wizarding high street.”

“How have I never known all of this existed?” Hermione asked. “Why doesn’t everyone know?”

And there it was, the question Severus didn’t want to answer. It had taken longer than he had expected to get to this point. “In 1692, the magical world ratified the International Statute of secrecy, hiding the magical world from nonmagical people -- called muggles -- because of the threat of witch trials that was decimating both wizards and muggles alike. The decision was made to hide magic away to preserve lives on both sides.”

Hermione considered this, and nodded. “That would explain why witch hunts began to decline.” She considered how she would hide such a thing, but her parents knew and it wasn't as though she was overburdened with friends.

“Yes,” Severus agreed. “Unfortunately, it’s also led some people into believing that people with long magical bloodlines are superior to those with non-magical heritage.”

Hermione was startled at the idea that this world wasn’t perfect. “Is it widespread?”

“It’ll be an issue you’ll have to face, no matter where you go.” Severus said, honestly. “However, it is frowned upon, and will get punished at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, due to a group that caused a great deal of harm around the time you were born, preservation of wizarding tradition and blood purity has been conflated.”

“What subject do you teach at Hogwarts, Professor?” Hermione asked, arms laden with books.

“Potions.” Severus answered, surprised that it had taken her so long to ask. “A subject many wizards neglect or denigrate as being somehow less magical or important, simply because they don’t bother to understand the intricacies and subtleties of potion-making.”

“It sounds fascinating.” Hermione said, struck by the way he spoke about his subject. “I’m looking forward to your class, Professor.”

“Indeed?” Severus drawled. “You may be one of the few, Miss Granger.”

Hermione beamed at him and then fell into contemplative silence until they reached Gringotts Bank, which had led to questions about goblins and currency, the trip to Flourish and Blotts took longer than any firstie he had ever accompanied, and he had helpfully added several books on wizarding culture and history to help answer some of the questions she couldn’t seem to stop asking.

“What does the crest mean?” Hermione asked, pointing at the copy of _Hogwarts, A History_. “It’s on my letter too. I’ve never seen one like it.”

Severus knew this was his chance. “Hogwarts is divided up into four houses. Students compete between houses in a sport called Quidditch, as well as for the glory of being named best House at the end of the year, based on points earned or lost based on behaviour in and out of class.” He explained. “Each house prizes certain traits in its’ students, and when you arrive, you will be Sorted into which House suits you best.”

Hermione mulled this over as they left the bookstore, and then, deciding not to give up her best chance at a live source, decided to find out more. “What are the four houses?”

Despite himself, Severus slipped into the tone of voice he used while lecturing the younger years. “The lion represents Gryffindor House, which prefers students of courage, bravery and chivalry. The snake represents Slytherin House, which chooses students of ambition, determination, and cunning. The badger represents Hufflepuff House, whose students are said to represent kindness, hard work, and fairness. Lastly, the eagle represents Ravenclaw house, which most values those of ready minds and cleverness.”

“What if you don’t fit anywhere?” Hermione asked, cautiously. “Do you have to go home?”

“That doesn’t happen.” Severus assured her. “Everyone worries about that, whether they admit it or not, but it never happens.”

“What house were you in?” Hermione queried, as they approached the next shop.

“I was a Slytherin when I was a student, and now I’m Head of Slytherin House.” Severus answered, surprised by how she hadn’t yet seemed to be put off by him.

“What’s that mean, Head of House?” Hermione asked.

“It means that any time there are problems with Slytherin students, I take care of it, both disciplinary or other issues.” He opened the door to the wand shop. “And now to get you your wand, Miss Granger.”

* * *

 The letters had been coming for two days, and Harry was just as confused as Dudley over who could possibly want to speak to him that badly. He was also puzzled by his new room. It had set Dudley off, of course, so Harry had taken the high road, or at least the road of self-preservation and gone for a walk. He was distracted by his thoughts, though, or he must have been, because he bumped into a woman carrying a bag of groceries and suddenly produce went everywhere.

“I’m sorry!” He blurted quickly, as the pretty black woman bent over to gather her fallen produce. “Here, let me help.”

“Thank you.” Aurora, replied, and then glanced up at him, stilling. “Are you...are you Harry Potter?”

Harry was startled by this, and wondered if Dudley had used him as a scapegoat yet again. “Uh, yes...look, I’m really sorry for bumping into you…”

“My stars, you look like your father!” Aurora interrupted him. She finished picking up the fallen lettuce and apples, and held out a hand for the orange he was holding.

Harry was poleaxed by this statement, and didn’t hand over the orange. He had never run into anyone who had known either of his parents, except for his aunt and uncle. “You knew my parents?”

Aurora smiled at him. “A little. We went to Hogwarts at the same time, but we were in different houses. Still, I was sad when they were killed.”

“Hogwarts?” Harry repeated. “That’s the name on my letter! Are you the one sending them?”

“Oh, no.” Aurora said, shaking her head. “Minerva does that! She’s the deputy headmistress, I just teach astronomy.”

“So it’s a school?” Harry pressed. “Uncle Vernon wouldn’t let me read the letters, he just kept burning them.”

Aurora gasped, and led Harry over to a nearby bench. “And you have no idea? Minerva should have sent a messenger, instead of a letter!”

“A messenger for what?” Harry asked. “To invite me to a school? The Dursleys won’t let me go, they’ve decided I’ll go to the local school.”

Aurora frowned. “Harry, you’re a wizard, just like your father, and just like your mother.”

Harry inched away on the bench slightly. There were no such thing as wizards, right? So she had to be crazy. “Um...okay. I think you’ve got the wrong Harry. I’m...just Harry.”

“Ever make something appear or disappear?” Aurora asked, smiling at him. “Suddenly appeared somewhere, made a wish and had it come true, or made something happen?”

Harry thought back, remembering the time when he had appeared on the school roof, or that time at the zoo, when the glass had disappeared and the snake had escaped. He had thought he was going crazy, and Uncle Vernon had locked him in his cupboard. “Can...can wizards talk to snakes?”

Aurora really _was_ surprised by that, and blinked at him. “Snakes have their own language, called Parseltongue. It’s a very rare and misunderstood gift to be able to talk to snakes, even in the wizarding world, Harry. One of the four founders of Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin, was a parselmouth. That’s why even now, the symbol of Slytherin House in Hogwarts is a snake.” She laughed. “I was actually terrified of snakes, but when I was Sorted into Slytherin I got used to the decor quite quickly.”

“I’m a wizard.” Harry said, tasting the words on his tongue, and enjoying the warm feeling it created. “Not a freak.”

“Oh, Harry.” Aurora said, shaking her head. At Hogwarts, you’ll be special, to be sure, but not a freak. You’ll be one wizard of many.”

“I need to get that letter!” Harry said, decidedly.

“If your guardians keep interfering, I’m sure the Headmaster will send someone to take care of it.” Aurora reassured him. “I can speak to them in the morning, if you like.”

Harry nodded. “I’d like that, Miss…”

“Professor Sinistra.” Aurora introduced herself, holding out her hand to Harry.

“Nice to meet you, Professor!” Harry said, with a grin.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” Aurora agreed. “I’ll see you soon.” And with that, she plucked the orange from where it had fallen on the bench, and resumed the walk to her parents’ home in Stanwell Moor.

* * *

 After a lovely roast with her parents, Aurora returned to Hogwarts and the comfort of her tower to plan her next move. She would undoubtedly speak to Albus, who would probably press his plan further into motion on an accelerated timetable. The question on her mind was whether or not to interfere. Stepping out onto her balcony, she stared into the sky, looking for guidance to make her decision, after all, she could not show her hand too soon. She traced her fingers in the air above her, and smiled. Ophiuchus had always been her favourite, for so many reasons.

She emerged, bleary-eyed in the morning to eat what was for her, usually her dinner and to drink an entire pot of tea, so that the caffeine might rejuvenate her. Spending the week with her parents always put a hitch in her usual nocturnal schedule. From experience, everyone was wise enough to put off speaking to her until her third cup of tea and several rashers of bacon had been consumed.

“How was your week with your parents, Aurora?” Septima Vector queried, from the other side of the woman.

“Well, for the most part.” Aurora admitted, happily, cutting into a tomato. “Dad was kind enough to check the grammar on my manuscript for me, before I send it in to the publisher.

“Maybe we’ll actually have an astronomy text written in this century soon.” Filius said, happily. “Did your chapters on the retrograde effect on charms make the cut?”

“No, I decided to keep that out and develop it further into a paper.” Aurora answered, with a smile for the Charms Master. “I plan on submitting to Charms Quarterly around March.”

“Congratulations!” Pomona enthused. “We’ll have to celebrate when it prints.”

“Don’t plan anything until I’m sure!” Aurora said, with a shake of her head, and finished off her fourth cup of tea. “Although something came up that worried me on my trip, Headmaster.”

Albus Dumbledore turned to her from his quiet conversation with Minerva to look at the Astronomy Professor. “What was that, my dear?” He asked, voice soft and eyes concerned.

“I ran into Harry Potter yesterday,” she chuckled lightly. “Or rather, he ran into me while I on my way home to my parents, spilled my groceries everywhere.” She shared a smile with Poppy and Pomona who chuckled, and even Minerva cracked a smile at that. “He looks so much like James! Unfortunately, being half-asleep I told him so, and...well...his aunt and uncle have been keeping his letter from him. I didn’t realise it at first, since I knew the letters had gone out, I said I would see him in September here, and... _really_ , he knows nothing, Albus! He should have had a messenger.”

“Petunia Dursley knows all about the wizarding world.” Severus drawled from her other side. “A letter should be all that’s needed. We hardly need to give the boy special treatment.”

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again, those two are the worst kind of muggles.” Minerva said, shaking her head. “I’ve sent hundreds of letters at this point, Albus! Surely someone _must_ go?”

“I’ve done three this year.” Aurora said, taking a sip of tea. “But I’d be willing to do it, since he knows me now.”

Albus frowned, but his voice did not change from the mild tone he usually used. “I’ll look into it, Aurora, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I didn’t realise you lived so close to him.”

“Neither did I!” Aurora said with a laugh. “You never told us where he lived. I’m surprised I never ran into him before. I suppose the fact that I spend most of my year here has something to do with it, though.”

* * *

 That night, Harry found a box sitting on his bed, a letter attached. Curious, he ripped open the envelope and began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_As promised, I spoke to the Headmaster, and he has said that he will look into it. Since Gryffindors can be a bit slow, I didn’t want you to worry you had been forgotten. It was ever so nice to meet you, I always like introducing young people to the idea of magic. To commemorate your entry into our world, I have a gift for you._ Technically, _it’s not allowed...but that rule is ignored for previously bonded familiars, so let’s just keep this between us._

_Take care,_

_Professor Aurora Sinistra_

Harry blinked in amazement, and with shaking hands, opened the unassuming brown cardboard box. Inside was a small pale grey snake with dark zigzags along its’ body, and a container of what looked to be frogspawn. “Hello.” He said softly. “I’m Harry.”


	3. Strangers Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione delves into books, Hagrid retrieves Harry, who meets Draco in Madam Malkin's.

Hermione returned her last rucksack full of books back to the London Library without reading them. Instead, she threw herself into studying her new _wizarding_ books. She ran her fingers over the carved wood of her vine wand, practicing pronunciation and devouring magical theory. She wanted to know everything about her new world. She took notes in brand new notebooks soon filled to the brim, and filled others with questions she had, saving them to ask people who would better know once she arrived at her new school.

She also spent a lot of time focusing on history, reading about the wars that had happened, and the falls of Grindelwald, Voldemort and the Death Eaters. At first she had been offended and angry at what she read, almost second-guessing whether she even wanted to go to Hogwarts. It wasn’t just the history books, though. Many of the books mentioned muggles in only the barest terms, sometimes in a way that was almost condescending.

The history and culture books that Professor Snape had suggested did not shy from how much of the wizarding world felt about muggles, and it didn’t conceal why either. The history books talked about how in Scotland accused witches as young as four had once been executed by being strangled before their bodies were immolated with bags of gunpowder around their necks, or the hangings in England, and the lucky escape of Alice Kyteler from Ireland, but also the horrific torture and death of Alice’s servant Petronilla de Meath, who couldn’t perform magic without a wand to save herself from being burned at the stake. It also talked about the security leak in America in 1790, which had led to a muggle shooting at suspected wizards and led to that country’s Rappaport’s Law and even stricter rules than the ones in the United Kingdom. She devoured the information on the Statute of Secrecy, how it had started from begging William and Mary for protection under the law and their refusal. Hermione wanted to believe that muggles were better now. She knew her parents had accepted her being a witch without much trouble, but even she had her limits. She knew some would be accepting, but not all. She remembered all too well Eddie Gibson’s fear of her after her birthday party, or how she had been avoided and whispered about after the lights in her entire school had gone out when she had been hiding from bullies. Privately, she wondered if the two worlds could be brought back together someday.

Just because she understood the source, however, didn’t mean that the stories about blood prejudice and how and why it worked hurt any less. She had finally found a place she felt she could belong, and it turned out that she would have to fight just as hard, if not harder to make herself a place. Well, no matter what, she would. She would learn all the ridiculous fiddly rules of society. She had done it in the muggle world, she would do it again. Surely she could find someone like her Aunt Aemilia who would be glad to extol the virtues of manners and etiquette without much urging. Sure, she didn’t _like_ Aunt Aemilia much, but she had learned from her nonetheless. She would prove herself to be better than any of them, muggleborn or not. The only way she could change things and make them better for everyone was to prove to them her value, and she realised quickly that she was going to have to be exceptional to overcome the bias.

* * *

 Harry found some comfort in Agathos, as the snake was called, talking with the snake late into the night, until he fell asleep. The note helped too, reassuring him that the professor not only hadn’t forgotten about him, but also that she cared in some small way. He so rarely felt as though anyone cared about him. She had not only remembered that he could speak to snakes and accepted it, but she also helped him bend the rules, just so he could have a pet to talk to -- and even send a note when she thought the Headmaster might be slow in helping him get his letter, or sending a messenger, whichever.

The next day, no letters came, and Uncle Vernon was sure that his persistence and latest safeguards against the letters had been successful. Harry had worried momentarily that the Headmaster of the school, or even Aurora might have given up. That had faded quickly though, as the snake hidden under his shirt hissed comfortingly at him. He went about his day as if it was completely normal.

Then at just past one, came a knock on the door. Well, Harry assumed that’s what it was, as the door shook and the sound went through the house.

Dudley blinked out of the stupor he had been in, watching the telly. ““Where’s the cannon?”

Another knock came with an equally loud boom. Petunia looked to Vernon with an expression of fear on her pinched face. “The neighbors!” She hissed. “What will they think?”

Vernon looked sideways at her and moved cautiously to the door, opening it slowly, with a look as if he might be contaminated just by touching the knob.

In the doorway, slightly hunched over, was a giant of a man, with a long beard and a wild mass of hair, though it looked as though someone had wetted it down and attempted to smooth it over, and while his general size was intimidating, his black eyes seemed kind.

“I demand you leave at once, sir! We do not give to cold-calling doorstop traders!” Vernon said, finding his voice.

“I’m no doorstop trader, Dursley.” The giant replied. “I’m here about Harry. Headmaster Dumbledore says he ain’t been getting his letters.” And then the giant walked right into the house, pressing Uncle Vernon against the wall with his bulk.

He looked over Petunia with an attempt at a smile. “Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey…”

He walked over to Harry, and put his broad hands on either of Harry’s shoulders, smelling strongly of some sort of aftershave that was quite...potent. “An’ here’s Harry!” said the giant.

“Hello.” Harry said, unsure of this messenger, but smiling nonetheless.

“Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby,” said the giant. “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mom’s eyes.”

“You’ve...met me before?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Sure have!” Hagrid said, with a big grin. “I was the one tha’ rescued ye from yer house and brought ye here after yer parents were murdered. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”

“ _Murdered_?” Harry said, eyes wide, turning on his aunt and uncle. “You told me they died in a car crash!”

“ _CAR CRASH_!” roared the large man, so angrily that the Dursleys all went pale and huddled together using the settee as a kind of barrier between them and the angry giant. “How could a car crash kill Lily an’ James Potter? It’s an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin’ his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!”

“We could hardly tell the boy!” Vernon argued. “We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon, “swore we’d stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!”

“You _knew_?” Harry said, horrified. “That I’m a wizard?”

“ _Knew_!” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. “ _Knew_! Of course we _knew_! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frogspawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were _proud_ of having a _witch_ in the family!”

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

“Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had _you_ , and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as — as — _abnormal_ — and then, if you please, she went and got herself _blown up_ and we got landed with _you_!”

Harry had thought that his world had tilted when Professor Sinistra had told him he was a wizard, but this...it felt as though his entire life was a lie. “Why?” He asked quietly. “Why were they killed?”

All of the anger faded from Hagrid’s face. He looked suddenly anxious, worrying a large lip.. “I never expected this,” he said, in a low, worried voice. “I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Aurora said ye needed a messenger, an’ tha’ I shoul’ be careful. Good woman, Perfesser Sinistra. I don’ know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh — but someone’s gotta — yeh can’t go off ter Hogwarts not knowin’.”

“He’s not going!” Vernon hissed. “He’s going to Stonewall High and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and —”

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," The giant scoffed.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like thern. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

Harry couldn’t help but wonder why he had to grow up with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, why he was left here, but he saved that question for another day. “So why bring me here after my parents were killed?”

Hagrid frowned. “Headmaster Dumbledore decided it was best.” Hagrid said. “He’s a wise man, Dumbledore. He was tryin’ to protec’ ye, I imagine.”

“From who?” Pressed Harry. “What happened to my parents?”

Hagrid sighed. “Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it...." He sat down on the settee making it squeak in protest, and stared at his hands for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows --"

"Who?"

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..." Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.”

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side. Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an' --" Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway...You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't.  Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts -- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

He lived. Harry felt a chill run over him. The old nightmare came back, stronger and more visceral than before: the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before -- and he remembered something else, for the first time: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -- just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -- one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily. He reached into his large overcoat, and drew out a letter, just like those that the Dursleys had been keeping from him. “There yeh are, Harry.”

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. He pulled out the letter and read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

After a minute to enjoy the fact that he was finally holding a letter, he asked, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment.

With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Given Harry his letter._

_Taking him to buy his things._

_Weather’s fine._

_Hope you're Well._

_Hagrid_

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

“Well, come on then!” Hagrid boomed. “We’re off to get yehr school things!”

Harry looked down at his hand-me-downs and wished he had something better, but brushed them off with his sticky hands, and then followed Hagrid through the door, towards the street.

Uncle Vernon left the wall, waving his fist, face beet red. “You get back here, boy…!” But stopped, quite quickly as Hagrid turned on him, pink umbrella in hand.

“Mimblewimble.” Said Vernon and closed the door.

As they walked to the train station, Agathos let out a hissing laugh, and slithered out from the warmth of Harry’s shirt to wrap around his arm. “ _I told you._ ” the snake gloated.

Before Harry could reply to his snake, Hagrid had noticed it. “Hey now, wha’s that?!”

Harry held out his arm. “His name is Agathos. He’s my snake. I have to hide him from Aunt Petunia, because she’d kill him.”

A worried look crossed Hagrid’s face, and his eyebrows creased, but it only lasted a second before he smiled. “Well now, tha’s a fine pet, tha’ is. Hogwarts usually only let’s kids bring owls, cats, or toads, but, since yehr already got a pet, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

* * *

 Draco was originally supposed to go to Diagon Alley with his father, but at the last minute, Lucius had cancelled due to a problem at the vineyards, requiring him to go to the French holdings. His mother had also been busy, planning a charity gala with Harmonia Greengrass and Hildegarde Bulstrode, promising that she would take him in a few days. Luckily for him, Severus had arrived, hoping to ask Lucius for some stock from the Malfoy Apothecaries, only to find that he was unavailable.

“Blast it all, now I’ll have to go to Diagon Alley.” The Potions’ Master groused. “Their quality is poor for the price, but I need proper fluxweed for the stores. Pomona still can’t get greenhouse four to grow it to my standards.”

Draco’s eyes lit up. He had been waiting to get his school supplies ever since his letter had come, and his father had kept putting it off. “Uncle Severus…?”

Severus looked over at Draco, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“If you’re going to Diagon Alley, will you take me to get my school things?” Draco usually didn’t mind asking for things, but he knew his godfather was busy and not in the best mood, he didn’t want to set him off. He had never seen Severus lose his temper, but he knew his father’s, and somehow he suspected Severus’s ire would be worse. “Father was going to take me, but he was called away, and Mother is planning the benefit for The Society of Distressed Witches.”

Severus was tempted to say no and let Draco wait for Narcissa or Lucius and another day, but he reminded himself that he wanted to encourage Draco to be more open-minded, and he couldn’t do that from a distance. “Very well.” He agreed, with a curt nod. “Let your mother know and go get your things.”

Draco rushed off happily and Severus shook his head slightly when the boy had left the room. He never doubted that Lucius loved his son, but his old friend was fickle with his attentions, and always had been, easily distracted by the next plan, the next investment, the shiny new toy. He had the privilege to pass Draco off to his wife or one of the elves as a baby and even now had other things on his mind.

* * *

 Draco stood in Madam Malkin’s, feeling flush with success. He had a brand new wand, hawthorn and unicorn hair, reasonably pliant and ten inches long. Ollivander had congratulated him, saying that hawthorn was a complex wand, and only chose wizards of great talent, full of contradictions. He liked the sound of that, and then Severus had surprised him with the gift of a wand sheath.

Severus wasn’t prone to giving gifts without reason, and when he had told Draco that he was proud of him for how he had grown and sure he would do well at Hogwarts, explaining that the first thing he had bought himself with his salary from Hogwarts was a wand sheath, it had made Draco feel as though the wand sheath was worth more than the galleons it cost. If he was a girl, or prone to emotion, he might have hugged the dour man, but he wasn't and so he didn’t.

Now, he was getting his robes fitted and feeling more and more like a wizard instead of a child. He stood as straight as possible for the seamstress to do his work, trying to imitate his father’s stance.

“Hogwarts, dear?” Madam Malkin said from the door to the shop. “Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

Madam Malkin came back with another boy, who looked his age, with dark hair and bottle-green eyes. Draco turned his head and grinned. “Hello, Hogwarts too?”

“Yes,” said the boy, and then Draco’s eyes went wide as a snake slithered up from somewhere under his shirt up to settle on his head. “You have a _snake_? I thought we were only allowed owls, cats and toads!”

“Um.” The boy said. “We are, but he’s already my bonded familiar so…”

Draco was amazed by this, and held out his hand to the boy. “You’ll probably be in Slytherin then, if you’ve bonded with a snake. I’d watch out for the other houses, they might hurt him, especially the Gryffindors. I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Harry Potter.” The boy introduced himself and Draco almost dropped his hand in surprise as the boy -- _Harry Potter_ \-- shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Harry.” Draco said.

“You too, Draco.” Harry said, smiling. “Thanks for the warning, but you don’t think the teachers would let anyone do anything to pets, do you?”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’d keep him close anyway. Father says most of the others hate Slytherins because they don’t understand ambition. Professor Snape says they’re suspicious and fear what they don’t understand, and even if you’re not in Slytherin snakes are associated with it.” He grinned arrogantly. “Because it’s the best house, obviously.”

“Professor Sinistra said Salazar Slytherin could talk to snakes, and that’s why it’s his symbol.” Harry said, absorbing this information. He wasn’t sure why that would be hard to understand.

“He was a parselmouth.” Draco agreed. “Professor Sinistra would know all about it, she’s the only teacher other than Professor Snape from Slytherin House. My father says that Headmaster Dumbledore tries to keep from hiring Slytherins. He’s on the Board of Governors, so he’d know.”

“All finished, Mr. Malfoy.” the witch doing his alterations said, interrupting them. “You’re ready to go.”

“Thank you.” Draco said, trying to imitate his father’s nod as the robes were spelled into a box for him. He turned back to Harry. “I suppose I’ll see you on the train?” he suggested. “I can help you from falling in with the wrong sort.”

“Sure.” Harry said, watching as the blond boy left. “See you then.” He was a bit arrogant, and reminded him vaguely of some of the boys from Little Whinging, but he had been friendly enough and hadn’t thought he was weird or looked worriedly at Agathos.

_“I like him_.” Agathos hissed. “ _He didn’t shriek like the woman in The Leaky Cauldron, or smell bad like that other professor._ ”

* * *

 Severus climbed the many flights of stairs between the dungeons and the astronomy tower after ensuring all his ingredients had all been put away properly to preserve their potency. He strode through the classroom to Aurora’s chambers, and found her sitting in her study, scribbling furiously.

“Draco believes he made friends with Harry Potter today.” He told the witch, vaguely amused at the way her ponytail of braids wriggled with each move of her head. It reminded him of a gorgon.

Aurora paused and glanced up at him, reaching for a book on her desk. She turned a few pages and smirked as she read: “Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns…”

“Sing for our time too.” Severus quoted back, almost smiling. “Sing for our time too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the history related by Hermione comes from either J.K. Rowling or from the historical witch trials.


	4. Mystery Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our intrepid first years meet on the train to Hogwarts and are Sorted.

As August wound down and September approached, Harry was excited to go to school. Living with the Dursleys had become slightly more tolerable, but was still depressing. On the last day of August, Harry woke hearing an odd noise in his room, a kind of pop, and blinked awake to see a letter on his nightstand beneath his glasses. He scrabbled for his glasses and slid them on his face, reaching for the letter.

He opened it with shaking fingers, half-afraid it would tell him that it had all been a mistake, and that he would be attending Stonewall High in Dudley’s grey-dyed cast offs. Instead, he found a letter from Aurora, which made him wonder why the Headmaster hadn’t just done whatever Aurora did to get her letters to him.

_Dear Harry,_

_Hagrid told me you had a good trip to Diagon Alley, and I’m glad. I’m sure you’re looking forward to tomorrow. I know when I found out I was a witch, I couldn’t wait to get to Hogwarts for the first time, but I was nervous too. So, to help, here are some notes to make the trip and the transition easier from someone who’s been there._

  1. _Don’t think about looking out of place in King’s Cross. You have a reason for being there and you’re less likely to draw attention if you try to avoid doubting yourself._
  2. _In case Hagrid forgot to mention it, you get on the platform by passing through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Most people do it at a run. Don’t worry, you won't crash into the brick._
  3. _The sweets trolley -- Drooble’s isn’t much better than muggle gum, don’t waste your knuts. Smell Bertie Bott’s before you pop them in your mouth. Don't get tricked into trading common Chocolate Frog cards for rarer ones. No matter how delicious they are, don’t eat Fizzing Whizbees on the train, you’ll hit your head on the ceiling of the compartment. Cockroach clusters, unlike Chocolate Frogs which are just candy, are actually chocolate-covered cockroaches. Don’t do it._
  4. _Make sure your familiar is comfortable. It’s a long train ride, and you don’t want him to wander off._
  5. _Last, but most importantly: while at Hogwarts, should you ever need anything, no matter what house you are Sorted into, I’m on top of the tallest tower.  If I’m in class, try Professor Snape._



_See you at Hogwarts,_

_Professor Aurora Sinistra_

Harry hugged the letter to his chest and put it in his school chest, already packed and ready. Things would all start tomorrow, his life would start tomorrow.

* * *

Hermione’s parents weren’t quite sure how to say goodbye to her outside King’s Cross station, and in turn, she had received an awkward hug from her mother and a pat on the head from her father. It might have bothered her at any other time, but today was the day she was off to Hogwarts, and she was fighting excitement and nervousness all at once. She straightened her spine and loaded her things onto the trolley, taking a deep breath and straightening her spine before pushing through the barrier Professor Snape had instructed her about. She blinked as she found herself on the other side and on another platform, and quickly moved away so that she wouldn’t get run over.

She quickly made her way onto the train, annoyed at the pushing and shoving of older students, and making a face at being called an ‘ickle firstie,’ but she had made her way to an empty compartment soon enough, before heading to the changing compartment to change into her robes. By the time she had returned to the compartment, however, there was a distraught boy inside, tearing through his chest.

“Hello.” She said, wrinkling her nose at the mess he had made in such a short time. “Have you lost something?”

The boy jumped at her voice, looking panicked as he turned. “Oh! Um...my...my toad, Trevor. Have you seen him?”

“No, I’m sorry.” Hermione said politely. “I’m Hermione Granger.” She held out her hand to the boy. “I was going to look around the train. I can let you know if I find him?”

“Sorry.” The boy apologised, wiping his hand on his robes. “I’m Neville, Neville Longbottom.” He gave her a relieved smile. “That would be great actually. Are you a first year too?”

“Yes.” Hermione answered, looking at his scattered belongings. “It was nice to meet you, Neville.”

* * *

Lucius and Narcissa had both decided to take their son to the train station, and emerging from the Floo, Draco quickly wiped ash off of his new robes, determined to make the best impression he could on the train. You only had one chance to make a first impression, after all.  Of course, his attempt to appear grown-up and mature was promptly ruined by his mother, desperately tugging on hems and fussing over him. “ _Mother…_ ” he said, trying to keep the childish whine out of his voice and not quite succeeding.

“Stop babying the boy, Narcissa.” Lucius said, giving his son only a curt nod.

“You must send me a letter as soon as you are settled, sweetheart.” Narcissa said, with one last pat, to ensure Draco’s hair was in place. “And I’ll send treats first thing in the morning.

“I will, Mother.” Draco said, trying to reassure her, before turning to his father. “Father.” he said with a nod.

“I’m sure you’ll uphold the family name, son.” Lucius said, with a politic smile. “Go on now, before your mother tries to take you back home.

* * *

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes -- he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, made sure Agathos was safe and sound in his sweatshirt pocket, fast asleep, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away, laughing.

Harry had a brief moment of fear, before he remembered the letter he had received the morning before. Taking a deep breath and lining himself up with the brick, he set off at a run. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble -- leaning forward on his cart, he ran faster -- the barrier was coming nearer and nearer -- he wouldn't be able to stop -- the cart was out of control -- he was a foot away -- he closed his eyes ready for the crash --

It didn't come... he kept on running... he opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" A voice asked, and Harry turned to see an older redheaded boy behind him.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!" The redhead called, causing an identical redhead to appear at his side.

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment. "Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you?”

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter, "chorused the twins. "Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am." The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum." With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry hid himself in the corner by the window, flattening his hair back over his forehead nervously. He kept feeling as though the people who recognised him and gaped at him, or insisted on handshakes expected things from him, and while he wanted to be the great wizard they all seemed to think he was, all he felt like was a poor orphan with too-big trainers and a bully for a cousin.

Just then, the door slid open, and Harry looked up and grinned at the blond in the doorway. “Hey Draco.”

“Hiding?” Draco asked, attempting to lift his trunk beside Harry’s. “I don’t think it’ll help. Word’s already gone through the train that Harry Potter is on board.”

“Great…” Harry groaned, getting up and joining Draco to help him get his trunk up on the shelf. “The redheaded boys who helped me with my trunk saw my scar. They must have said something.”

“Red hair?” Draco repeated, and then sneered. “Probably Weasleys. The entire family’s in Gryffindor, and Father says Arthur Weasley turns down promotions despite having more children than he can afford because he likes tinkering with muggle junk.”

Harry shrugged noncommittally. “They seemed nice enough.”

“Before they ran off to tell everyone the saw the Great Harry Potter.” Draco said with a snort.

As the two chatted and Draco explained Quidditch the train rolled out of London and chugged towards Hogwarts. The pair traded stories about growing up, Draco sharing what it was like at the Manor, while Harry shared tales of the Dursleys and Dudley in particular over an inordinate amount of sweets.

“We’ll work on it!” Draco decided, pulling out a book on jinxes. “By the time summer comes around, you’ll be able to hex him good, and he’ll never bully you again!” The pair bent their heads over the book, talking about tongue tying and tickling jinxes, as the door opened.

“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one…” Hermione trailed off, as her eyes zeroed in on the book they were looking at. “Is that _Juicy Jinxes for Just Desserts_? I saw that in Flourish and Blotts, but Professor Snape said I couldn’t buy it.”

“No toads here, sorry.” Harry said, with an apologetic smile.

Draco looked curiously at the girl, with frizzy brown hair and something a bit posh in her voice. “Why yes, it is.” he said, puffing up slightly. “My father bought it for me. How do you know Professor Snape?”

“He told me I was a witch and took me to Diagon Alley.” Hermione replied, walking into the room and taking a seat across from the boys, where she could see the book. “Do you know him?”

Draco was surprised at the nerve of the girl, and maybe a little impressed. He was cautious though, being that what she said suggested that she was a muggleborn. He had thought a lot over what Severus had told him, but was still unsure. Most muggleborns were Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, but somehow, he didn’t think a girl who wanted to read a book on jinxes would be one of those. Ravenclaw, maybe. “He’s an old friend of the family.” Draco replied, importantly. “What did you think of him?”

“I think he’s _brilliant_.” Hermione replied. “He had answers for all my questions, and I like the way he talks about Potions. I think it’s going to be my favourite class.” She blushed, realising that she had been rude and not even introduced herself. “I’m Hermione Granger, by the way.”

“Draco Malfoy.” Draco said with a nod. Definitely not Hufflepuff or Gryffindor if she liked Snape. Probably Ravenclaw, but he couldn’t help but remember what Severus had said about Professor Sinistra. His inner sensibilities were at war, trying to decide between cultivating allies or what he had always been taught about mudbloods.

“I’m Harry Potter.” Harry replied, somewhat nervous about her reaction.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know about you, of course -- I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History,  The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.”

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

Hermione looked at Draco. “Are you related to Armand Malfoy, who came over during the Norman Conquest? I was fascinated with how the king had considered him so indispensable he had given him a huge tract of land! I read about it in _A History of Magical Britain._ ”

Draco puffed up despite himself. “I am, yes. Malfoy Manor still stands on the land, actually. I can see almost the whole thing from my bedroom window.” He was understandably proud of both his home and his family, and the compliments made it easier to not think about the girl’s probable blood status. “You can look over the book with us if you like.”

“I’d like that.” Hermione said, shifting to take up what space remained on that side of the car, glad that she was still quite small and fit beside Draco quite easily, if a bit snugly. “I’ve already memorized all the spells from our schoolbooks.”

“Ravenclaw.” Draco said, shaking his head.

“Do you think?” Hermione asked, startled. “I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. I hope I'm in Slytherin, though, it sounds by far the best. Do either of you know what house you'll be in?”

“Malfoys are always in Slytherin.” Draco answered, only a little surprised by her words.

“I have no idea.” Harry admitted. His nerves were coming out again. “Maybe they’ll just send me back and say it was all a big mistake.”

“You’ll be fine, Harry.” Draco reassured him. “And you have a snake. You’ll definitely be in Slytherin.”

Hermione opened her mouth to add to the assurances, she had worried something similar, obviously, but then the door opened again, and a redhead with a smudge of dirt on his nose stuck his head in.

“Hullo!” The redhead said. “Is it true Harry Potter’s in this compartment, or are my brothers just messing me about?”

Harry flushed red. “I’m Harry Potter.”

Wicked!” The redhead said, walking in and sitting across from the three of them. “I thought it was a bit of a trick, Fred and George told me we’d have to wrestle a troll to be Sorted.” He held out his hand to Harry, ignoring the other two in the compartment. “I’m Ron Weasley.”

Harry shook his hand awkwardly, still unsure and uncomfortable with the fame.

“Rude.” Hermione whispered a little too loudly to Draco. “He didn’t even say excuse me.”

“He’s a Weasley, what do you expect?” Draco replied, quite a bit less quietly. “They have more children than class.”

Ron’s face turned red, and he turned to look at Draco. “I’ve heard of your family too. My Dad says you’re all evil Slytherins. There’s not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.”  Ron looked at Harry. “You don’t want to be hanging around this sort, Harry. They all follow You-Know-Who.”

Hermione, ever a crusader for the underdog and just representation, surged forward slightly. “That’s just patently false!” She said angrily. “Sirius Black was a Gryffindor and he blew up thirteen muggles! Everyone in every House can choose what magic to use. _Merlin_ was a Slytherin after all, and he was the greatest wizard who ever lived!”

Ron opened his mouth, sneering, as if to say something, but just then Agathos crawled out of Harry’s pocket and up to his neck, making the rat with his head sticking out of Ron’s pocket, start to squeal and panic, then jumped down and ran for the door.

“Scabbers! Hey, Scabbers, get back here!” He dove for his rat, and then once he had captured it, stuffed it back into his pocket, with a glare at the trio, slamming the compartment door as he left, face even redder than before.

Draco was holding his sides, laughing. “Good going, Agathos!”

“ _Something strange about that rat_.” Agathos informed Harry calmly, getting comfortable. “ _Are we almost there?_ ”

Harry didn’t know, so he looked to his new friends. “Are we almost there?”

Hermione checked her watch. “I suspect so. You had better go and get changed!”

* * *

Harry went off to change, but shortly after he had returned, there came a voice echoing through the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Hermione, he saw, was biting her lips and shaking slightly, and even Draco looked anxious. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out onto a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Draco, and Hermione were followed into their boat by Neville. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. "Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them. "Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door. "Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

* * *

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber.

Harry swallowed. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Draco.

“My father wouldn’t tell me.” Draco admitted. “Just that it wasn’t anything to worry about.” As much as he believed that, though, Draco couldn’t help but worry. What if he didn’t end up in Slytherin?

Before long, though, they had found their way into the Great Hall, in a line behind Professor McGonagall. Harry could hear Hermione behind him whispering to herself, but couldn’t quite make out the words, Draco meanwhile, had gone stiff ahead of him, standing at attention like one of the queen’s guard at Buckingham Palace.

The Hall was gorgeous. It was lit by thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard Hermione whisper, "It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens. Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years.

Then, the hat ripped open at the brim and began to sing. Harry was glad that they didn’t have to try and do magic, but he didn’t feel as though any of those Houses suited him at all. It was yet more pressure from the wizarding world. Did everyone have to be brave, clever, cunning or hard-working? He was...just Harry. While trying to relax, Professor McGonagall had pulled a scroll out and began to read off names. Each time, the hat was placed on the person’s head, and then called out one of the Houses. He relaxed a bit as the line dwindled. It didn’t seem too hard.

* * *

Hermione’s heart was beating fast. She kept taking deep breaths, silent ones, trying to stay calm and not get overexcited as she tended to do. Her books had suggested that an ‘excess of exuberance’ was seen as childish, and if she wanted to prove herself, she could not be seen as childish.

Still, she moved a bit quicker to the stool to sit down than she probably should have. Professor McGonagall lowered the hat on her head, and she clutched nervously at the sides of the stool as her sight disappeared behind the brim.

“ _Well, you are a rarity._ ” The hat’s voice said in her mind. “ _A very strong mind, eager to learn, clever and quick-witted...you’d do well in Ravenclaw, but…_ ”

But? Hermione wondered to herself, or more accurately, to the hat.

“ _You have a spine of diamond and a sense of justice that would do you well in Gryffindor._ ”  The hat answered her question. “ _But oh, the ambition here as well. You will be a great witch, of that there is no doubt. It would be difficult, but that thirst to conquer and the vindictive streak you try to hide will suit you well in…_ ”

There was a pause, and Hermione held her breath, waiting for the hat’s final verdict.

“SLYTHERIN!” It shouted, and as he hat was removed, Hermione smiled at Draco and Harry and quickly headed over to the silver and green table, where several older students appeared to be whispering amid the applause. She sat down on one of the nearly empty benches, leaving room for the two boys she thought might become her friends, if they were truly Sorted here too, and then looked up at Professor Snape, and thought he seemed pleased, for all that he hadn’t smiled.

* * *

Draco was a little surprised that the brainy muggleborn had made it into Slytherin, but only a little. He swallowed hard, reminding himself of what his godfather had said. Had Severus seen this coming when he had met the girl? Was that why he had warned him, made him think about muggleborns in Slytherin? It seemed like something his godfather would do. Whether it was planned or not, he decided quickly he didn’t want to be on her bad side, though he wasn’t quite sure about a friendship. Was it even possible for a Malfoy to be friends with a mud...muggleborn?

He was pulled from his thoughts by his name being called, and tried to imitate his father’s swagger as he walked forward. The hat didn’t even really touch his head before he was declared a Slytherin, and happily he made his way over to the table, sitting next to Crabbe and leaving a spot between him and Hermione for Harry.

“Congratulations, you made it.” He whispered to Hermione.

Hermione beamed back in answer. “You too.”

“There was never any doubt.” Draco replied, just as quietly, with a smirk on his face.

* * *

“Potter, Harry!” Called Professor McGonagall, and before Harry could even move, there was a buzzing that went around the table, like so many bees. He stepped forward, trying to ignore the voices.

" _Potter_ , did she say?"

“ _The_ Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second, was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

“ _Hmm_ ," said a small voice in his ear. " _Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, and my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?_ "

Harry curled his fingers around the seat of the stool, not sure whether he was supposed to think or not. After a moment of silence, he thought: Maybe Slytherin?

“ _Slytherin, eh_?" said the small voice. " _Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that -- but there’s courage there was well, that could see you well in Gryffindor_.”

Harry considered that, and thought about all he had heard. Being brave might not be so bad, but the tentative friends he had made were all Slytherins save for Hagrid, and he couldn’t help but remember what Aurora had said about Gryffindors being slow, and Draco said about Gryffindors hating snakes. Slytherin, he thought decisively.

The hat seemed to sigh. “ _Well, if you're sure -- better be…_ ” And then the hat shouted for everyone to hear: SLYTHERIN!”

After a moment, the hat was lifted off his head, but unlike the prior sortings, the Hall had gone almost entirely quiet. Harry got to his feet and moved over to the Slytherin table, where at least Hermione and Draco were clapping. Soon enough, though, the rest of the table had picked it up.

The whispers worsened, though, and the twins who had helped him with his trunk were actually catcalling. He sunk into the seat Hermione had left him, and swallowed hard.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and looked worried, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Harry smiled back, hoping to reassure him. In the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. On the far end of the table, though, was Professor Sinistra, with a proud smile on her face that made Harry feel warm inside.

He had made it to Hogwarts, and now he had a new home: Slytherin.


	5. Not One of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione faces blood purists in Slytherin and Harry faces the slings and arrows of the Gryffindors and other students, while Draco struggles with what he's been taught.

As the last boy sorted (Zabini, Blaise) joined them at the Slytherin table, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The sweets from the train seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak ! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he - a bit mad?" He asked Draco in a whisper.

"Completely mental, Father says." Draco answered, in an equally soft voice. "But don't let him put you off your dinner."

Harry blinked and looked back at the table in surprise. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding...

As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families. One of the boys, a tall and slightly stringy boy, looked at Hermione. "So, Granger - any relation to the Potion's Master, Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Excellent Society of Potioneers?"

Hermione paused. She could lie and make life easier on herself, but decided against it. "I'm not sure, perhaps through a squib relation, since I'm a muggleborn."

There was a moment of silence, before the table exploded. "We just ate with a _mudblood_?" One of the first-year girls, all but shrieked, as if she had somehow been infected.

The high decibels reached by the girl made some of the students at the Ravenclaw table look over and start whispering.

One of the girls, wearing a shiny badge with a 'P' on it, quickly stepped in. " _Hush_." She hissed at the girl. "We do not air issues in public. Do you want the Gryffindors to exploit it?"

The dark-haired girl screwed up her nose. "But she's a _mud_ …" The complaint was quickly silenced by force, as an older girl quickly moved over, sat down beside the complaining first year, and clamped her hand over her mouth. "Shut it, Pansy." She hissed. "Wait for the Common Room. We are not at home."

"Thank you, Primrose." The other girl replied, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

"Of course, Gemma." Primrose replied.

Harry looked at Hermione, who did not look surprised by the outburst. Her hand was shaking a little, but other than that, she had a blank look plastered on her face.

"What's mudblood mean?" Harry whispered to Draco.

"Her parents are muggles." Draco whispered in answer. "A lot of people think muggleborn witches have weak magic and dirty blood."

"That's ridiculous!" Harry said, a bit offended. After all, his mother had been a muggleborn. Sure, he didn't remember her, but still, she had been his mother.

"Mmm." Draco hummed. He still didn't know what to think. He had been taught for years that muggleborns were filth, below proper witches and wizards, but here one had made her way into his House, and as much as he hated to admit it, he might like her a little.

Before Harry could reply, Professor Dumbledore stood, and began to address the students again. "Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

His face turned serious, as he finished his last announcement. "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. "He's not serious?" he muttered to Draco.

Draco shrugged. "Barmy, I told you."

* * *

After the school song, Hermione forced herself to stand, as the girl who had flown to her defence before, or at least put off the judgement, stood. "Come on, firsties." She said, gesturing them. "Follow me."

The Slytherin first years followed her out of the Great Hall, and then she led them to a nearby staircase. They descended down into the darkness, lit by torches and more floating candles, into the depth of the castle. The procession came to a stop in front of a blank wall, where Gemma turned to face them. "This is the door to the Common room. The password changes every two weeks, and is not to be shared with anyone from other houses. Understood?"

Upon receiving a chorus of "Yes," from the eager First Years, she looked at the wall and said easily: " _Antimony_." The wall folded in on itself, and she led the students inside.

Hermione and Harry were both trying to hide the awe they felt, looking around the room. The expensive carved wood and velvet furniture scattered around the room, the giant leather sofas, the ornate fireplace, the torches and candles were replaced by greenish lanterns with odd patterns on them that cast lace-like shadows on the walls, while the ceiling looked like an aquarium, with seaweed and fish swimming by.

"The girls' dormitory is down the staircase to the left, the boys' is on the right." Gemma explained. "You'll have a chance to find your rooms soon enough, after the Professors have their say."

"I am not rooming with a _mudblood_." Pansy insisted, sending Hermione a look of deep disgust. "She's not one of us!"

"The hat disagrees with you." Said an older boy, with another 'P' badge on his robes, who entered the room and sat down on one of the chairs.

"Sod the hat, Flinton!" Another older boy argued. "Send the chit back up to Dumbledore, a mudblood cannot be a true Slytherin!" There were rumblings of agreement.

The last boy sorted, Blaise Zabini, looked at Draco. "What do you think, Malfoy?" He might only be a first year, but everyone knew how powerful the Malfoys were.

Draco took a deep breath, trying to ignore how both Hermione and Pansy were looking to him for support. He had wanted to lead in Slytherin, but he could only hope his father wouldn't be cross with him for this. "I think that Slytherin has been associated with blood purity for centuries, _but_ it is also about _ambition_ , cunning, determination, shrewdness... and _power_. Remember that there is some of our Founder in the hat, and if that piece of Salazar Slytherin decided that someone is powerful enough to ignore their blood status, then that is someone I want in my house." He couldn't help but feel powerful himself, as everyone looked to him to voice his opinion even as a first year, and the look of admiration Hermione shot him didn't hurt either.

"That's shite!" Derrick complained, and there were rumblings agreeing with him, that were quickly cut off by a voice.

"Mr. Derrick," Aurora trilled sweetly. "I believe Pomona has just received a new shipment of fertiliser for Greenhouses One and Two. You will stop there after dinner tomorrow, and volunteer to help her spread it for her plants. Maybe then you'll learn, what, exactly, is 'shite.'"

Peregrine Derrick halted, turning to stare at the Professor in shock. "But Professor, I hate Herbology!"

"I know." Aurora said, with an a mean little smile. "Of course, if you choose to disobey, I can remove points and give you a week's detention instead of _volunteer work_."

Peregrine's mouth moved but no sound came out. "But...but...for _what_?"

"Insulting me." Aurora said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Next time maybe you'll watch your tongue when you suggest someone is not a _true Slytherin_ , or I may borrow some wound-cleaning potion from Professor Snape to clean your tongue for you. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, would you, Severus?"

"Not at all, Aurora." Severus said with a nod, as the firsties were amazed that the two professors had somehow entered without them noticing, and quite a few of the older Slytherins were struck dumb by the fact that their trusted professor was not the half-blood or pureblood they assumed her to be. He looked around the room. "Now, I see that this year, I'm going to have to remind you all of how things work within Slytherin."

He cast a severe look over his students, arms crossed over his chest. "Slytherin House has worked hard over the last six years to win the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup. We have worked hard to be the best. Despite that, however, we are also the most maligned House, because of the war."

"As Slytherins, we have to work harder to be recognised with the other Houses." Aurora continued seamlessly. "We have to fight to prove ourselves, and we have to work _together_ in order to do that. Outside of the house, we must present a unified front, or the other houses will exploit our weaknesses."

"This _means_ ," Severus said sharply. "Whether you like someone, hate someone, or disapprove of them, outside of the Slytherin dungeon, you do not show it. You support your Housemates, no matter what your personal feelings are. Am I _understood_?"

"Yes, sir." Everyone said in unison, from Harry to the largest seventh year.

"As usual, should you have any problems, both Severus and I are available to help you." Aurora said, beatifically. "However, if you wake me up before four o'clock, have a pot of tea on you, if you want me to be intelligible."

A laugh went through the older students, who were accustomed to Aurora's nocturnal schedule.

"Expect Gryffindors to give you a hard time." Severus said, easily. "Their need to play the hero means that they need a villain and our House has been almost universally cast in that role. If you need to retaliate, _do not be caught_." His eyes wandered over the firsties carefully. "I expect great things from each and every one of you. Do not let me down."

"No, sir!"

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter." Aurora said, as everyone started moving toward their dormitory stairs. "A moment, please."

"You as well, Mr. Malfoy." Severus called.

The three looked at each other, shrugged, and moved back over to the teachers.

Aurora's stern teacher face disappeared, and was replaced by a smile. "Congratulations, Harry! I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." Harry said, flushing red.

"And you," Aurora said, turning to Hermione, and holding out her hand. "Please let me shake the hand of the first muggleborn since _me_ to be cunning enough to be a Slytherin."

Hermione shook her hand, slightly pink. "It's not going to be easy, is it?"

"The sharpest blades don't get that way by accident, Miss Granger." Professor Snape reminded her. He reached into his robes and removed a book. "Read this, learn the spells, and return it to me when you are finished."

Hermione took it, looking at the cover, and paged through it just enough to realise that it was a book on using jinxes and hexes for defence and protection. "Yes sir, thank you."

Aurora smiled at her. "I'd like both of you to join me in extra lessons to learn more about wizarding culture and society." Aurora said easily. "To make your transition as easy as possible."

"Okay." Harry said with a nod. He had never been particularly good at school, but he did want to be part of this world.

Hermione's reaction was one of immense enthusiasm by contrast. "Oh yes, Professor, thank you!"

"You're dismissed, both of you." Severus said, waving a hand. "Go get a good night's sleep."

* * *

After Harry and Hermione had left, Aurora excused herself as well, leaving Severus alone in the common room with his godson. He looked at the pale blond boy for a moment, and then put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm glad to know that you listen to what I say, Draco." He gave the boy a nod. "Forging networks and connections is important, and friendships moreso. Those two will be a force to be reckoned with, and if you guide and help them, exceptional young wizard that you are, the three of you will be unstoppable."

Draco nodded, liking the sound of that. "Uncle...Professor...my father…"

Severus nodded, understanding what Draco was saying. "You leave your father to Narcissa and I, Draco. You do what you think best."

"Yes, sir." Draco said with a smile, feeling more confident. "So it's okay to be friends with her?"

Severus hid a pained smile. "Draco, for most of my time in Hogwarts, my best friend was a muggleborn and when I joined the staff my only real ally outside of the Headmaster was another."

* * *

Hermione was tired. The adrenaline of the sorting and the meeting in the common room had faded and been replaced with exhaustion. Unfortunately, someone was not willing to just let her curl up in the large and very comfortable looking four-poster.

"I am not sleeping in the same room as a _mudblood_." Pansy insisted. "Who knows what kinds of diseases she has?"

"Shut up, Pansy." The blonde girl in the bed next to Hermione's groused. "We _get_ it, you don't like her."

Hermione had memorised all of the spells from the first-year spellbook, but she hadn't really had the chance to experiment with them. Still… She pulled out her vinewood wand, and whispered " _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," it was her first attempt at a levitation charm, but it worked perfectly, as she floated Pansy's trunk out of the dorm.

"What are you doing, mudblood?" Pansy demanded shrilly.

"Helping you." Hermione replied, crawling into bed. "Since you have no desire to share a room with me, you can sleep in the Common Room. I'm sure the sofas won't hurt your back _too_ badly."

Pansy turned a mottled purple-red that reminded Hermione of the flower the girl had been named for, and then grabbed the comforter from her four-poster and marched out of the room, tripping over the chest that was right outside the door.

The blonde girl giggled, and turned sideways to look at Hermione. "I'm Daphne Greengrass."

"Hermione Granger." Hermione replied with a yawn. "Goodnight, Daphne."

"Goodnight, Hermione." Daphne answered.

* * *

"...time to get up, Harry."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry muttered, shaking himself awake to snickers, finding that it was not Aunt Petunia who had woken him, but an amused Draco Malfoy.

"Come on, Harry!" Draco said, tying his tie. "You don't want to be late for breakfast on your first day!"

His first day. His first real day at Hogwarts, as a wizard. Harry was up like a shot and had gotten ready in record time, although part of that might have been because he didn't need to get spiderwebs out of his hair.

"Morning, Hermione." Harry said, as he emerged from the boys' dorms with Draco into the Common Room.

"Good morning, Harry, good morning, Draco." Hermione said with a smile at them as she fiddled with her robes. "Have you met Daphne?"

"Of course," Draco said with a nod and a socialite smile for Daphne. "Good morning, Daphne."

"I'm afraid I haven't had the chance." Harry said, smiling somewhat awkwardly at the pretty blonde girl. "I'm Harry."

"Hello Harry." Daphne said, giving him a smile. "Are you and Draco heading to breakfast?"

"Um, yes." Harry admitted, flushing nervously. "Would...would you like to join us?"

"I'd like that." Daphne admitted, falling in step with Harry.

Hermione watched in confusion and amusement as Harry and Daphne headed to the Great Hall, Hermione and Draco forgotten. "What just happened?"

"Daphne learned well from her mother." Draco said with a laugh. "C'mon Hermione, we might as well catch up, before they forget us completely."

* * *

"There, look."

" _Where_?"

"Next to the Malfoy boy."

"It's a _disgrace_."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"What a shame."

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his _scar_?"

"I always _knew_ he wasn't one of _us_."

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left breakfast. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. The Fat Friar, ever the Hufflepuff, was always happy to point new students in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!" Draco threatened him with the Bloody Baron, though, and he zoomed off in a snit.

And _then_ , once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. Hermione took to it like a duck to water, earning a grudging sort of respect from most of their yearmates by racking up points in class with correct answers. Draco always sat beside her, so he could poke her with his quill when she was making herself look overeager or too much of a swot. Harry would hate to know what she would have been like if it wasn't for that eagle-owl quill.

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing about in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She had given a stern glare over the classroom, and maybe it was his imagination, but Harry thought she might have lingered just a little bit longer on the cluster of Slytherins.

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a slight smile and two points.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. They had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and Agathos hated his classes, preferring to stay behind in the dorm than ride in Harry's pockets on days they had Defence.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even purebloods like Draco and Daphne didn't have much of a head start.

Thursday night, they had the lesson that Harry had been looking forward too the most, since Defence had been such a dud. Astronomy, with Professor Sinistra, The first-year Slytherins and Ravenclaws shuffled up multiple flights of stairs to the astronomy tower, yawning slightly.

When they reached the tower, they were quickly ushered into a classroom by Aurora, who was in contrast to most of them, incredibly awake. "Good evening!" She said happily. "If you will all get out your telescope sets and notebooks, we will begin to discuss the importance of astronomy to magic."

As the students shuffled about, Aurora puttered about the room, providing each tired student with a cup of tea. This had been an exceedingly good idea as she started lecturing on planetary and lunar effects on magic. Even though she was an amusing professor who would have kept their attention and maybe even been a favourite any other time of the day, the fact that it was midnight had an effect on the lot of them, even Hermione.

"Keep your spine straight, Miss Granger." Aurora had corrected softly as she passed her by, quietly enough that only Harry and Draco beside her could hear.. "Shoulders back, that's a girl."

Hermione had immediately straightened, and Harry, paranoid, had tried as well, tossing a wadded up bit of parchment at Draco when the blond snickered at him.

* * *

Friday morning brought the fact that no-one really wanted to get up, but everyone did. It was Potions class, and none of them wanted to get on the bad side of Professor Snape. Gemma and Jake, the fifth year prefects, had explained that while the Slytherin professors might not give official detentions, that didn't mean you wouldn't be punished. If anyone forgot, the fact that Peregrine Derrick couldn't seem to get the scent of thestral dung out of his hair for three days was a tangible reminder.

Harry had an even more personal reminder that followed him about the school, and was even more evidenced in every class he had with Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, or even in the halls. He walked into the Potions classroom, and could practically feel the hate and fear coming off the Gryffindors.

"Keep walking, Harry." Hermione whispered to him as they found their seats. "Don't give them the satisfaction. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Harry knew that it was probably the exact same thing she told herself, every time someone sneered 'mudblood' at her in the Common Room. He knew it bothered her, but she refused to go to Sinistra or Snape about it, even when hexes were thrown in her direction. She would just brush herself off and keep going, jaw ever more set, and eyes a little more narrowed, determining where it came from, as if cataloguing who would pay later.

Taking her words to heart, he fell into his seat beside Draco, who was looking particularly excited this morning. Harry was going to ask him why, but he was distracted by what was happening closer to the front of the room.

"I think maybe You-Know-Who _did_ kill Harry, and took over his body." Ron Weasley was saying loudly. "The Potters were good people, my parents always said, Gryffindors through and through. They'd never have a son who was a _Slytherin_."

Daphne, sitting next to Tracey Davis at the next table, threw down her quill. "Just because your family has never been ambitious enough to dig themselves out of poverty doesn't mean there's anything wrong with _Harry_."

Ron turned bright red, from his ears all the way down his face, even the bit of neck that showed above his hand-me-down robes. "At least I'm not a _disgrace_."

"Your magical ability, or lack thereof, would disagree." Hermione said lightly, as she arranged her Potions equipment and notebooks in front of her. "At least _Harry_ can tell the difference between a bouncing bulb and a puffapod." A laugh went through the Slytherin students at this.

"What would you know?" Ron spat. "You can't even tell when you're not wanted! I bet your house just keeps you around because they haven't decided how to kill you yet, and then you'll be running to the Gryffindors, begging for us to help you. Your precious Harry won't help you then. He's evil, it's plain as the scar on his face!"

Hermione's face flushed and her wand hand twitched, but before she could respond, a chill ran over the class, and Ron looked up to find himself face-to-face with Severus Snape.

"Mr. Weasley…" Severus drawled. "A point from Gryffindor and a detention tonight with Mr. Filch."

"But…!" Ron said, eyes wide.

"Make that two. Snape drawled. "Shall we try for five?"

Ron dropped into his seat, and Snape moved past him to the center of the room. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Snape's black eyes travelled over the room, and Harry felt slightly exposed, as if his Head of House could see his own doubts about whether he belonged here. Harry cast a look at his friends to see that Draco looked quietly confident, while Hermione looked practically bewitched by the words alone. Luckily, however, the teacher's eyes moved on.

Suddenly, Snape spoke, almost snappishly. "Weasley! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Ron looked as stumped as Harry felt, the flush rising up on his cheeks again. "I don't know, Professor."

Hermione's hand was up in an instant, and Harry smothered a grin as a small squeak followed what he was sure was a jab with a quill.

Snape sneered at the Gryffindor. "Pity, apparently opinions aren't always backed up by knowledge. Let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry couldn't help but smile a bit, and Hermione had actually lowered her hand to use it in order to quietly muffle her laughter. He wouldn't normally be amused, but apparently Severus had heard more than he had let on.

"I don't know." Ron said, his ears approaching purple.

"A pity." Snape said, shaking his head. "What is the difference, Weasley, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"If you don't know, sir, maybe you shouldn't be teaching." Ron bit out, angrily.

Snape went completely still for a moment. "You've just gained a week of detentions, Mr. Weasley, and ten points from Gryffindor."

He looked over the classroom again, and Harry had a sinking feeling he was about to quiz him, but instead, he stopped on Hermione. "Miss Granger, perhaps you could help Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, sir." Hermione said, speaking clearly. "Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, _Aconitum_ , which comes in over 250 varieties. A bezoar is a stone from the gastrointestinal tract of an animal, which can be used to neutralise poisons. The most effective of which come from the Anatolian or Bezoar Ibex, though the Chinese magical community prefers ox bezoars, which they refer to as _niu-huang_. Asphodel and wormwood are the base of a sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death."

"Three points to Slytherin, Miss Granger."

Between Hermione's memorisation of the book and Draco's skill at stewing horned toads, things were looking up for the Slytherins, which was something they all needed. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, every one of them had been bothered by the idea that they were somehow lesser than the Gryffindors, even if they had come to Hogwarts expecting it.

Still, Hermione whispered to Harry and Draco that she felt bad for Neville, the way his potion had exploded.

"Don't." Draco advised. "You tried to help him find his toad on the first day, and after you were Sorted, he became scared of you. It's not worth it."

Harry shrugged slightly. "I dunno, Hermione. D'you want to come down to Hagrid's with me? He invited me for tea."

Draco scoffed. "Why would you want to have tea with the _help_?"

Hermione took her revenge and poked Draco in the side. "Don't be rude, Draco. From what Harry has said, Hagrid is very nice, and didn't drop him because he's a Slytherin. You never know what being nice to someone will bring."

Draco scoffed. "Whatever. Will I see you in the Common Room after dinner?"

"Can't." Harry replied, shaking his head. "Hermione and I have lessons with Professor Sinistra." He frowned. "Sorry mate. Maybe after that?"

"Sure." Draco replied. "I'll catch up with Crabbe and Theo."

Plans thus determined, the three friends split to go on their merry ways.


	6. Oxford Comma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione have tea with Hagrid, Draco spends some time with the Slytherins, Aurora and Severus talk in code, before Harry and Hermione's first extracurricular lessons.

At five-to-three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."

Hermione gave Harry a panicked look, wondering if they were about to be accosted by some great guard dog.

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. "Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Hermione and started licking her face. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

Hermione squeaked as the giant dog greeted her with kisses, attempting to pet it in order to get it to calm down slightly.

"Fang, down!" Hagrid commanded, gruffly..

Letting out a breath of relief that the dog had been called off, for all that it was affectionate instead of ferocious, Hermione sat on one of the rough-hewn chairs.

"This is my friend Hermione," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Glad to meet ye, 'Ermione." Hagrid said, holding out a plate of cakes. "Rock cake?"

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Hermione pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first week of lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry was delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch 'that old git.' "An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Filch puts her up to it."

"She seems like a very loyal familiar." Hermione agreed.

About halfway through the visit, Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson, and Hermione piped in with some of the things Ron had said about Harry, which then had Harry telling Hagrid about what Ron had said about _her_.

Hagrid's smiling face dropped into a frown. "S'not right, what he's been sayin'." Hagrid agreed. "I'm always chasin' his older brothers away from the forest, but they're a good family, the Weasleys. Yeh should try harder ta make friends with him, make him see that yehr no' evil."

Hermione crossed her arms stubbornly. "I'd rather put up with _Pansy_ calling me a mudblood every five minutes than go _running to_ him."

Harry looked over at her. "Is Pansy still giving you trouble?"

Hermione shrugged. "She's not sleeping out in the Common Room anymore."

"Tha's why yeh should make friends with some people from good families, like tha' Longbottom boy, an' mebbe the older Weasleys." Hagrid suggested. "Them as don't worry about blood. Codswallop, all this talk about blood in me opinion."

Hermione shrugged. "I've got Harry, Draco and Daphne. That's more than I had in primary school."

Hagrid gave them another one of those worried looks that so confused Harry, and offered them more rock cakes, which they quickly declined. He then started answering Hermione's questions on the school and the grounds, seemingly glad to have had the subject changed.

Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry remembered Draco telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but he hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for? As Harry and Hermione walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And _why_ did Hagrid want them to be friends with Weasleys so badly?

* * *

Severus found his way back to his classroom after the last class of his day, planning on enjoying his free period, only to discover an intruder in his office.

An intruder asleep in his office. He shook his head and stood in front of his desk like a student for a moment, unsure of how to approach this situation. Aurora had obviously arrived during his time dealing with some dunderheaded Hufflepuffs, and fallen back to sleep.

His first instinct was just to shake her, but he had learned better than that, even when she had still been a student the year ahead of him. She might be the Astronomy professor, but she could hurl creative hexes like no one's business. Instead, he quietly summoned a house-elf with a request for a tea service, and spoke instead, trying to wake her. "Aurora?"

"Mmm?" Hummed the sleeping woman, from where her head was lying, cushioned on his desk.

"Why are you sleeping on my desk?"

"Gotta...stop...Herc'les...stealin'….apples."

"Do we?" Severus drawled, sure that such a comment had some obscure meaning. The elf reappeared and he began pouring cups of tea. "How shall we do that?"

"Teach…" Aurora muttered.

"Well, we know how to do that." Severus drawled, "come on now, Aurora, time to wake up. I have tea." He prodded her gently with a spoon.

Aurora made a plaintive noise of protest as she blinked awake again. "No pokin' Sev'rus."

Severus snorted. "Up, Aurora." He refrained from prodding her with the spoon anymore though. "You had a reason for coming down here, and I doubt it was my _scintillating_ company."

Aurora grumbled, but took the proffered cup of tea with ease. " _Yes_ , I come down hundreds of stairs on a regular basis, because a girl needs her _exercise_ , really Sev'rus." Aurora muttered into the teacup.

Severus snorted. "So you said something about Hercules trying to steal apples?" He prodded. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the myth of the Hesperides."

"It does." Aurora said, looking around the room cautiously. She knew there would be listening charms about in his office, now that school was in session and the Headmaster was undeniably unhappy that the piece he had been counting on had gone rogue. "The stars are concerning." She said worriedly. "Philomenus is making a nuisance of himself, menacing the tree."

Severus took a moment to translate this in his mind. He knew Hercules in this conversation referred to Gryffindor or the wider Gryffindor plan. He also knew that the constellation of Serpens represented the Slytherin plan, the constellation Draco represented the obvious player of Draco Malfoy, while Aurora considered Harry to be Ophiuchus, the serpent-bearer and the healer of Slytherin House.

To be fair, he had never been all that concerned with Astronomy, save for how it affected his potions, and throwing mythology onto that made it even more difficult. Still, he considered this for a long moment, trying to remember. Philomenus wasn't a constellation he could remember, and he struggled for a moment, looking at the star map on his far wall that Aurora had gifted to him for Christmas several years ago, trying to decide what she could be referring too. "Boötes?" He said vaguely, something of a memory poking at him.

"Making an utter nuisance of himself." Aurora said in disgust, nodding in agreement. "Trying to plow the tree up."

Ah, someone trying to ruin Hermione Granger's potential future place in the plan. Severus realised. Aurora likened the girl to Lyra, but mostly because she had no true constellation to represent the tree of the golden apples. "Pushing Lyra toward Hercules?"

"Towards an unimportant quadrant." Aurora said, waving her hand. "But, with the interaction of Regulus and Mercury on the tenth, I don't like it."

Severus had no doubt that these celestial events were actually happening, or appeared to be happening enough that it would pass and inspection by Albus. Dumbledore meant well, but he often dismissed Aurora and a few other teachers, like Septima, Binns and Bathsheba to have little to no effect on his plans. He expected them to act as they always had. He leaned back, refilling both their cups of tea.

"What do you want with me, Aurora?"

Aurora paused, a wicked smirk crossing her mouth. "Oh, I could come up with loads of things to do with _you_ , Severus." She teased.

Severus rolled his eyes at her. Aurora had a mind as bad as a seventh-year boy. He was a frequent victim of her teasing. In the beginning it had bothered him, but he had soon discovered that it wasn't meant maliciously - she did it to Septima too. "The stars, witch!"

"Take a look at the situation with me tonight?" Aurora said, finishing the newer cup of tea with a yawn. "The situation with Ophiuchus I can handle, but I can see the situation with Lyra having an effect on the brewing you've been planning."

"All right." Severus agreed. "Go get a shower and wake up properly. I'll join you after dinner."

" _Promise_?" Aurora teased with a tinkling laugh as she left the chair, and moved to the doorway.

Severus snorted dismissively. "On second thought, better make it a cold one."

* * *

Draco didn't realise how much he had missed his old friends, until he had returned to the Common Room sans Hermione and Harry, while they had gone to visit the groundskeeper. "Crabbe," he said in acknowledgement, as he fell onto one of the sofas, where Theo was playing chess with Blaise.

"Hey Draco." Crabbe said, waving a hand full of chocolate frog.

"Oh Draco!" Pansy said happily, sliding in beside him. "I'm so glad you've escaped the _common_ element."

Draco was unsure of how to respond. He knew what she meant. "Afternoon, Pansy." He said, completely side-stepping her statement.

"I don't know how you stand hanging about with that _mudblood_ all the time, Draco." She said, wrinkling her nose. "And Potter killed the Dark Lord."

"Defeated, not killed." Draco corrected her, without looking at her, focused on the chess game. The correction was automatic, but it had brought the Common Room to a stop.

"What'd you say?" Theo asked, forehead crinkling.

Draco blinked in surprise at the way everyone had stilled. He didn't think he had said anything shocking. "What?"

"Pansy said Potter killed the Dark Lord…" Blaise prompted.

"...and you said defeated, not killed." Theo finished. "Do you know something we don't? Did Potter say something?"

" _Seriously_?" Draco asked, looking around the room. While he didn't know everyone that well, he had made a point to learn everyone's names and family ties, and quite a few of them had had family ties to the Dark Lord somewhere, from Annalise Boline to Velia Rookwood. Blaise might not have been connected officially, but everyone knew that Alecto Carrow and Serafina Zabini were inseparable. To his amazement, everyone was looking confused. He shook his head. "No one _saw_ what happened and there was no body. He's not dead, he's _defeated_." He had been raised with the knowledge that the Dark Lord would return was incontrovertible fact.

"So why you hanging around a mudblood and the boy who defeated him?" Marcus Flint sneered. "That puts a target on your back."

Draco snorted at this, leaning back. It was short-sighted. "Harry defeated him as baby with no wand. What do you think he's be capable of with a wand?"

"He doesn't seem too good in class." Tracey remarked, from where she was studying.

Draco scoffed. "If everyone thought _you_ were the next Dark Lord, would you be showing what you could do to the staff here?" He relaxed as there were mutterings of agreement. He still somewhat believed that Harry had more power than he showed, but he had amended his opinion slightly that it was power Harry didn't know he had, and he wouldn't be a good Malfoy if he didn't help him. He had read all about his ancestors, from Armand on, who had set themselves up as advisors and the elite, Ministers and Chief Warlocks.

Pansy put her arms on her hips. "So what's your excuse about the mudblood, Draco?" Pansy wrinkled her upturned nose. "She even _smells_."

Draco privately thought if Hermione smelled like anything, it was blackberries and expensive ink, but he wisely refrained from saying so. "While you idiots have been hexing and antagonising the biggest point-winner in first year, I've been helping her while watching her study hexes. Who do you think she's planning on using those _on_? Certainly not me." He leaned back. "Look at Professor Sinistra. None of you knew she was a muggleborn, she fits so well. We're always getting called prejudiced because of the Dark Lord. How can they call us bigots if we embrace a muggleborn in our house?"

The House had fallen slightly quieter. Some of them were still muttering about mudbloods, but others were thinking and Draco could tell. It might not be the Ministry yet, but Hogwarts had politics too, as he was rapidly learning.

"Your father's going to be _horrified_ at you, Draco!" Pansy insisted, stomping away.

Draco worried that might actually be the case, but he didn't let it show. Severus had said that he would speak to his father, and he trusted his godfather. That had become ever more prominent since this summer. Severus didn't seem to treat him like an annoying child any more, and actually had talks with him. His father still talked down to him, lecturing and only expecting a respectful 'Yes, sir,' in response. He knew that feeling was probably akin to betraying his father, but he felt it all the same. He still loved his father and wanted to make him proud, but he felt a little invisible, as if Lucius couldn't see how much he had grown, and Severus could.

"Good riddance." Daphne said, turning a page in _Witch Weekly_. "I'd say her nose will stick like that, but it already has."

* * *

After an uneventful dinner where Hermione and Harry had taken up seats on either side of Draco and they chatted a little about this and that, the two once again bid farewell to their blond friend, and headed off without him. Both found themselves wishing that he would join them, but were equally aware that the last thing Draco Malfoy needed was lessons on the wizarding world.

The trip to the Astronomy Tower was very different when one wasn't fighting sleepiness, Hermione found, as they climbed the many staircases. She could appreciate more of the artistry in the moving portraits, the sweeping views afforded by the windows, and the beauty in stained glass the higher they climbed.

The classroom, too was better appreciated. The evening sky lit the room as much as the candles on the walls. The tapestries were unlike those elsewhere in the school, which were large things that covered feet of wall. There were more in here, but smaller, painting the room in their own way, each one holding a single constellation. They too, seemed enchanted as they actually _twinkled_. The biggest, surprise though, were the two people in the room. She was surprised to see Professor Snape joining Professor Sinistra, and perhaps most shocking, that instead of the robes she had always seen; Professor Sinistra was in a pair of jeans and a blouse that could have come out of an issue of _Vogue_ or _Tatler_.

"Come in you two." Aurora said with a laugh, catching the expression on Hermione's face. "Harry, get prepared to take notes. Hermione, you'll be duelling with Professor Snape while I lecture."

" _What_?" Hermione said in horror. "How can I learn to duel and learn what you're teaching at the _same time?_ How will I take _notes?_ "

Severus resisted the urge to chuckle, his sternest face on. "That, Miss Granger, is one of the reasons we are doing this exercise." He said, easily. "You are not yet in a position in Slytherin House where you can relax. While your focus is admirable, you need to learn to be cognizant of what is going on around you, and be able to retain that information."

Hermione sighed. She supposed he had a good point. "Yes, sir." She said, giving in. "Is there another reason?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I want to see if you are _capable_ of throwing a hex, considering that you keep getting hit with them and not retaliating."

Hermione flushed. How did Professor Snape even know about that? "Of course I can throw a hex!" She said hotly, and then seemed to remember who she was speaking to, and calmed just slightly. "Sir."

"Then why haven't you, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape insisted, doubt lacing his tone in a way that made Hermione want to hang her head in embarrassment.

"Because I'd be doing it _all the time._ " Hermione said, passionately. "Not only am I more likely to get caught, and lose the points I've worked so hard to gain, but it's terribly inefficient. I'd rather just learn the most effective hexes out there, and then turn around and use them on Pan... _the worst ones_...and then they'll all know to leave me alone, and I won't have to do it all the time!"

Aurora couldn't hide her snicker and didn't try. "She reminds me _awfully_ of someone, Severus."

"Indeed?" Severus drawled. "Very well then, Miss Granger. Take this as an opportunity to practise, while retaining information from what is going on around you." Hermione sighed, but nodded.

While Professor Snape was teaching Hermione about bowing and paces before a duel, Harry had his quill inked and hovering above a piece of parchment, for Professor Sinistra to begin.

She surprised him by leaning on her desk, and pulling a quill and a ballpoint out of a drawer. "Be honest now, Harry, which of these would you rather use - the biro or the quill?"

Harry knew what his answer was supposed to be. He really did. This was a class about wizarding culture, after all, but…he sighed and faltered. "I…"

"It's okay, Harry." Aurora said. "Be honest. That's important in these lessons so I can teach you properly."

"The biro." Harry muttered, flushing. "It's easier."

"And you, Hermione? Would you rather use a quill or a biro?"

Hermione, who was struggling to get jinxes to actually hit Professor Snape, gritted her teeth. "The quill...it feels more... _special_."

"Both good answers." Professor Sinistra congratulated them. "With good reasons. Today we're going to discuss why the wizarding world uses quills." She leaned back on her desk. "A lot of people in this school would tell you not to concern yourself with wizarding traditions, that the wizarding world is behind on the times and ought to change with the influx of muggleborns and half-bloods raised in the muggle world. That's why, despite the fact I've offered to take up a brief elective class, there is no course in Wizarding Studies, but there is for Muggle Studies. Others say that muggle things leaking into our world is a danger and should be excised with ruthless disregard."

Aurora held up the two pens. "The purpose of this class is not philosophical, however. It is not my place to tell you what or how to think, merely to explain how things work and why."

"So why the quill?" Harry asked.

Professor Sinistra smiled. "To get you good at using it." She shook her head. "Right now you could use a biro and it wouldn't hurt anything, but the reason Hogwarts and the wider wizarding world uses quills are because of the differences between the two. A biro works by forcing a metal ball against the paper on one side, and through the ink on the other. It requires a lot of force when compared to a quill, and you are limited by the form of the pen. A quill, on the other hand, takes less force to write and puts less pressure on the wrist."

She conjured a large piece of parchment on the board. "However, the most important point is this: A quill's nib, because of how it is constructed, can create variations in line thickness and shade, something that is of vital importance when you get into more advanced magical concentrations, like ancient runes, alchemy, or cursebreaking where having a line of the wrong thickness can create an entirely different spell, or even magical backlash." Here, she started drawing an intricate thing on the paper, noting star and constellation points alongside runic symbols and arithmantic equations. She may have been showing off a little, but she so rarely got to show her true magical artistry when teaching children the moons of Jupiter.

She then drew a line in the center of the paper, and attempted to duplicate her work with the ballpoint pen. It was difficult, and there were just some notations and symbols she couldn't get right, so she was required to approximate.

"Wow." Harry murmured, impressed. He didn't know if he was more impressed by the difference between the two pictures or the complicated chart he had no hope of even _trying_ to understand. "That's not even _close_ to looking the same."

"Appearance aside," Aurora said with a smile. "Quill pens also allow you to write with inks of different viscosities and qualities. A biro may have waterproof ink, but often they are light-sensitive, which could be a problem, if you need what you're writing to stand up for a great amount of time." She smirked. "And to be fair, I always enjoy using different colours." She waved a hand. "On a more practical side, however, you can also use the ink to imbue what you're writing with certain qualities, much like when you're creating potions in Professor Snape's class - and in some situations, you can even write with potions. Because a biro has measured, already prepared ink, you can't do that."

Harry looked at the quill in his hand with a burgeoning new respect. "I just thought it was because it was a tradition."

"It is part of it." Aurora admitted. "Many wizards and witches will never go into advanced magics, or desperately _need_ to use a quill, but there are those who do, and rather than having to learn at fifteen or sixteen, Hogwarts chooses to have quills as a continuous thing, so that by the time you reach the age where you might be choosing a specialised field, you are comfortable with it, and the use is second nature. So, because so many people spend seven years of their lives writing with quills, they are comfortable with it, and see no need or desire to change." She clapped her hands. "What I want you to do now is experiment...practice with shading, width, and how you form your letters, as well as with various inks. I have a collection for you to play with."

After an hour, Hermione, finally finished with her duel, entirely out of breath and a little sore, sat down next to Harry and inspected his many iterations of his name, 'the five boxing wizards jump quickly,' and even a little sketch of Agathos. "Nice." She said with a smile. "But you're still copying your notes for me."

Harry groaned.


	7. I Believe I Can Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Slytherins and Gryffindors have their first flying lessons, Hermione gets a mysterious gift, and Albus bends some rules for Harry.

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Ron Weasley. Still, first-year Slytherins only had Potions with the Gryffindors, so they didn't have to put up with Weasley much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Slytherin common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday - and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Weasley." He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You're not going to make a fool of yourself," said Draco dismissively. "Weasley might be a pureblood, but I doubt his family had enough money to teach him on a proper broom anyway."

If anyone knew, Harry supposed, it would be Draco. Draco did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told Harry and Hermione about how he secretly wanted to be a Chaser, but that his father felt that the position wasn't good enough, and insisted Draco train as a Seeker. He also told a long, harrowing story that ended with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. The story had horrified Hermione at first, until about the fifth time he told it, wherewith she rolled her eyes at him, partially to cover her own fear.

He wasn't the only one, though: Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly, even the girls got into the discussions, citing favourite teams and causing Millicent and Daphne to have an argument over who was better.

Hermione was more nervous about flying than Harry was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Draco had been quick to notice, of course. Draco's eagle owl, Bubo, was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened proudly at the table, using the homemade sweets to show favour. Harry and Hermione were always given small cakes and sweets, but Draco was capricious with other gifts, depending on how he felt about the others at the time, and whether he felt that they respected him. It always amazed Harry that these people would clamour, albeit silently, for some small favour from their friend.

Harry turned to Hermione, about to ask her opinion of why this happened, only to notice that Hermione had a package. This was odd, as aside from her daily subscription to the _Prophet_ , she never got any mail.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, curious.

Hermione opened the parcel, tipping a bracelet into her hand, with a snake charm hanging off of it. "Wow." She breathed, studying the tiny snake.

"Who's it from, Hermione?" Daphne squealed, leaning across to look at it. "This is so exciting!"

"Why is it so exciting?" Harry asked, blinking. "It's just a bracelet."

"It's a _charm_ bracelet." Daphne explained. "Every charm on the bracelet, has a charm worked into it, but you have no way of knowing what charm, unless whoever gives it to you, tells you."

"She shouldn't even _have_ one." Pansy said, angrily. "She's not a pureblood!"

"It's not just a pureblood tradition, Pans." Tracey pointed out, waving her hand. " _I_ have one, and I'm only half."

Daphne rolled her eyes at Pansy, and continued talking to Hermione instead. "Traditionally, your father gives you your bracelet and starts giving you protective charms as a baby, and then when you're older, your beaus will start giving you charms as courting gifts to show their wealth and ability to protect you." She clapped her hands and leaned forward. "Who's it from, Hermione?"

Hermione tipped the box that the bracelet had come in, taking out the lining, but then shook her head. "It doesn't say." She looked across at her friend. "I've never seen you wear one."

Daphne wrinkled her nose. "I haven't been wearing mine, because one of the charms makes it so Father can track who I speak to. I haven't figured out which charm it is to replace it, but I can show you later."

Gemma leaned over conspiratorially. "I have a spell that will show what charm it is, if you want me to show you."

Daphne grinned, a happy and yet wicked smile. "Please!"

"We'll do yours too, Hermione." Gemma assured her. "We'll meet in the Common Room after dinner, but it's probably just a standard protective charm, since it's your first charm."

"I'd like that." Hermione said, clipping the bracelet on her wrist, and watching the stones on the snake catch the light.

Harry looked at Draco, who looked not well pleased by the gift. He shrugged, shaking his head. There were some things in either world that he would probably never understand, and girls were one of them.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Draco, and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson, with Daphne trying to reassure Hermione that she would be fine at the back of the line. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Gryffindors were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. Quite a few of the students on the Slytherin team didn't have enough money to own their own brooms, and had to use the school brooms for Quidditch. He had warned the Slytherin firsties what to look out for when in flying lessons.

"Here, Hermione." Draco said, pulling her over to the center of the line, where a broom that resembled a newer Shooting Star model than some of the others, but not as troublesome as the one he stood in front of, having more experience flying, he could control a disagreeable broom.

Harry joined him on the other side, and before Draco could warn him, Madam Hooch walked onto the field. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles, but it was better than some of the others.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

" _UP!_ " Everyone shouted. Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did, Draco had his as well.

"Put your hand further towards the middle of the broom, Hermione." Draco instructed in a soft voice. "And when you give it an order, pretend that you're one of the professors. You're the one with the authority."

" _Up_!" Hermione tried again, and this time it had jumped up easily enough.

Harry looked around, and a few people were still struggling, but soon even Neville had his broom in hand.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Draco flushed red when Madam Hooch told him that he had been flying with the wrong grip for years, making it harder on himself.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" She shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and - WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ' _Quidditch_.' Come on, dear." Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

The class looked around, and there was some discussion about the accident, but things were surprisingly quiet between the two Houses. Before long, though, Madam Hooch returned and the lesson resumed.

Harry discovered - with a fierce joy, that he had discovered something in the wizarding world he could do without being taught. He had been struggling with how easily every part of magic had been coming for Hermione, and how Draco already knew so much of the basics of the world around him, but this...this was _easy_ , this was _freeing_ , this was _his_.

* * *

The lesson was going well enough, and about partway through, Hermione actually began to relax and enjoy it. The broom she was using was much calmer than many of the others, and she felt more in control. She even became brave enough to turn a few of the figure eights Madam Hooch suggested. This wasn't as bad as she had feared, even if it made her arms ache, the way she had to lean into it all.

Pansy was terribly irritated. Nothing had been going the way she had anticipated. She had planned to come to Slytherin and gather the Slytherin girls to follow her, then convince Draco that she was the best ally he could have. Everything would come easy, because she was a pedigreed member of the Sacred-Twenty-Eight, and her mother was a genius who would have gone on to become the greatest law-witch ever, if she hadn't gotten married. Instead, everyone's attention was either on _Potter_ or Draco's pet mudblood. Pansy disliked both of them. She had been taught growing up that her stock would have been much higher, that they would have been an even richer, greater family had the Dark Lord won, and now Potter was swanning around Slytherin, despite having defeated the Dark Lord. That was enough to annoy anyone, but then, there was Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger was everything Pansy hated, being shoved under her nose. She was a muggleborn, dirty and unworthy of her magic, and yet she had somehow managed to get Draco Malfoy to be her champion. She didn't seem to care about her appearance, with that awful nest of hair and big teeth, and yet Daphne Greengrass, the daughter of Harmonia de Montmorency-Greengrass, the famous developer of beauty aids that high-class witches swore by - preferred Hermione's company over Pansy's! Not only that, but teachers seemed to like her, because she was always getting things right on the first try! There were some things that could not be borne!

Pansy therefore, eased her wand out of her sleeve as she flew lazy circles, glad that there seemed to be one class in which the muggleborn didn't seem to excel, and just when Hermione was turning a corner and couldn't let go, Pansy threw an unclasping charm at the bracelet the girl didn't even deserve. She was slightly off, though, as it seemed to hit more of the muggleborn's wrist than the bracelet, but it worked nonetheless, and Pansy smirked as the bracelet began to fall.

Hermione let out a yelp, and accidentally took her hands off her broom when something stung her wrist. She quickly, but them back on, only to realise, in horror, that her brand new bracelet was falling, and she was in the air. "My bracelet!" She cried, feeling horribly. She always tried to take such good care of her gifts, and now her brand new bracelet was sure to break.

Harry looked over when he heard Hermione's cry, and saw the bracelet falling. He reacted, seeing it as if it was falling in slow motion. "I'll get it, Hermione!" He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the bracelet - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the charm bracelet clutched safely in his fist.

"MR. POTTER!" Madam Hooch shouted, even though her yellow eyes were glinting with something. "Do you know how dangerous that was?"

"Er…" Harry said, looking at the bracelet in his hand. "No? Not really?"

The rest of the class had flown back down to the ground, and he held out the bracelet to Hermione again. "Here you go, Hermione."

Hermione threw herself at Harry, giving him a big hug, and taking the bracelet, before promptly slapping him on the shoulder. "What were you thinking, you could have been killed! You saw what happened to Neville!"

Harry flushed red. "I don't know. It just seemed like the thing to do."

"Well, thank you." Hermione said, putting her bracelet back on, and smiling at her friend. "But don't pull a stunt like that again!"

"I thought it was really well done, Harry." Daphne said, to console him. "I don't think most Seekers could have pulled that off."

Harry, if it was possible, went even redder. "Tha...thanks...Daphne."

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Severus Snape asked, walking into the Headmaster's office. This was not the first time since the year had started that he was called before the venerated wizard.

"Ah, yes, Severus." Albus Dumbledore said, turning from the window to look at his Potions Master. "How are you finding our Mr. Potter?"

Severus considered the question. "He doesn't remind me of Lily." He said after a long pause. "He may have her eyes, but I haven't seen anything else of her in him yet." He gestured slightly. "Though, of course, I have heard of his exceedingly foolhardy save of Ms. Granger's bracelet this afternoon, so it seems he has more than just Potter's hair."

"Indeed." Albus said, looking at the man a one scared boy had become. "I do wonder if he and Ms. Granger might not emulate his parents' someday."

"I try not to think of my students' future romances, headmaster." Severus drawled. "If that's all, sir?" That was true, but he also knew Aurora had predicted a quite different match. Albus, of course, would never think of it, knowing Lucius as he did and dismissing Draco as the Death Eater in miniature.

"It isn't, Severus." Albus replied. "I want you to put him on the Slytherin Quidditch team as seeker."

Severus was rarely startled by Dumbledore, but this did surprise him. "He's a first year! It's against the rules, Albus. There hasn't been a first year on a team in a century."

"I think we can make an exception in his case, Severus." Dumbledore replied. "It's important he feels he belongs here in the wizarding world, and nothing builds belonging quite like Quidditch."

"Without ever having to try out?" Severus said doubtfully. "It could look like favouritism, Albus. It could make his teammates resentful."

"He caught a bracelet after a fifty-foot dive, Severus." Albus said, shaking his head. "If anything they should be glad."

"Oh, I'm _sure_." Severus said, but he nodded. "As you wish, Headmaster." This, Severus thought, could cause problems. Quidditch was extremely competitive, especially in the dungeons, where they had won for several years in a row, and gleefully flattened Gryffindor in the last match of the season last year. He did not want his House to think that he was favouring Potter, he didn't even want Potter to think he was favouring him. It could set him on the outs with the House, even the tentative friendship he had with Draco. It would have to be handled delicately.

* * *

After dinner, Severus called the members of the Slytherin quidditch team and Harry to his office. He had been considering asking Draco as well, but decided that this would look suspicious and that it would be best if he heard it from his friend.

"Team, I have some...news." He drawled. "I'm afraid it will impact quidditch."

Harry looked at the team in confusion. "Sir? Why I am here?"

"Because, Mr. Potter," Severus drawled. "The headmaster has decided that you are going to be made seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team."

"That's my position!" Terrence said, quickly, raising his voice. "I've played it for two years, two winning years!"

"He's only a firstie, Professor." Marcus agreed. "Today was his first day on a broom."

"I am aware, Mr. Flint." Severus agreed. "I told Professor Dumbledore the same thing, but he has insisted."

"This is _shite_!" Terrence declared. "I'm supposed to just give up my position for some firstie?"

"Professor," Harry said, wanting to crawl into a hole. "I really...I've never played Quidditch, I don't know any of the rules. I shouldn't be given someone else's spot. I don't want to take Higgs's place."

Severus shrugged at this. "I tried, Potter, but the Headmaster was quite impressed with your actions in your flying class today. A fifty foot dive to catch a falling bracelet is quite impressive."

Marcus turned and looked at the scarlet first year. "So...that wasn't an exaggeration?"

"No." Harry admitted. "I just didn't want Hermione's new bracelet to break. She was so pleased with it."

"As for you, Mr. Higgs." Severus said with a nod. "We are still lacking a keeper, if you wish to take it, I will have Mr. Flint cancel tryouts."

Terrence sighed. "I guess it's better than nothing, sir. Thank you for allowing me the first choice."

"Very well." Severus said with a nod. "I suggest that this be kept under wraps, to surprise the other teams during our first game."

"Of course." Marcus agreed, with a broad smile, surprisingly hopeful. "I'll draft some new strategies."

The team filed out in a mix of emotions, but Harry stayed behind, looking nervously at the floor.

"Yes?" Severus asked.

"Sir, this doesn't feel right." Harry admitted. "First years aren't allowed to play Quidditch. Draco complains about it whenever anyone mentions the game."

"Something you will have to accustom yourself to, Mr. Potter, is that people will treat you differently for various reasons. You've already seen how different an experience Ms. Granger is having as a muggleborn, and I daresay Weasley and his ilk gave you a fairly good example of how some will treat you for being a Slytherin." He tented his fingers and sighed. "This is just one more example. You will not only be the Boy-Who-Lived, you'll be the youngest Seeker in a century. You will need to learn to deal with these gifts, preferably without getting a swelled head." Severus bit his tongue to prevent saying 'like your father,' but prevent it he did. He could not afford to alienate the boy now. "I do suggest that you tell Mr. Malfoy about your... _good fortune_ , before anyone beyond the team finds out."

"Yes, sir." Harry murmured, not even wanting to think of how Draco would react. "Sir...I don't even have a _broom_."

Severus shook his head. "Technically, you could use one of the school brooms, but I would suggest seeing Aurora. She might know of a better option."

"Thank you, Professor Snape." Harry said finally, leaving the room, and heading back to the Common Room, torn between being elated over being first pick for something when he had been overlooked in muggle school, and being upset over how it was being forced on the team. Professor Dumbledore hadn't even spoke to him. He had yet to officially meet the man, let alone be asked if he wanted to play.

When he reached the Common Room, he found Hermione and Draco leaning over their books and discussing an essay due next week. "Hey." He said quietly. "Can I talk to you two privately for a minute?"

The pair shared a look that had Harry wondering when they started doing that, and Draco nodded, leading the three of them over to an unused corner by the fire. "What's going on? Did you get in trouble?" Hermione asked, worriedly.

"No." Harry admitted quietly. "Apparently the Headmaster heard or saw our flying lesson today and insisted Professor Snape put me on the Quidditch team."

"WHAT?!" Draco burst out, grey eyes wide. "But that's...we're first years!"

" _Shhh_." Hermione shushed him quietly. "You don't sound happy, Harry."

"I don't know how I feel." Harry replied, just as softly. "They moved the current seeker for me. I mean, I guess I'm happy he thinks I'm that good, but…"

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "I should have gone after the sodding bracelet." He muttered, more jealous than he wanted to admit. "But go for it, Harry. You'll be the youngest seeker in ages."

"A century, according to Professor Snape." Harry admitted. "I don't know anything about quidditch or brooms or any of it."

"I'll teach you." Draco admitted. "And hey, maybe if you're the seeker, next year when I try out, I can actually play chaser. Even if Father thinks it isn't as prestigious a position, it's got to be better than not being on the team at all."

"You're not angry?" Harry asked, somewhat cautiously.

"Nah, it's not your fault." Draco admitted, even though it physically pained him. He kept reminding himself that he wouldn't always be overshadowed by the Boy-Who-Lived, and that he'd get his own perks someday.

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. "Here, Harry, you should read this." She suggested. "It's a good primer."

"Thanks Hermione." Harry said, taking the book. "And thanks for understanding, Draco. I need to go tell Agathos!" And then he ran off to the dorm, slightly more excited than he had been about playing.

Hermione waited until Harry had walked up the stairs, to lean over and kiss Draco chastely on the cheek. "That was very sweet of you." She said quietly. "Not to get angry at Harry, even though he got what you wanted."

Draco flushed pink at the kiss. It may have been normal for Hermione, but he was used to a more rigid social code of interaction. Which is not to say that he didn't like the praise. "It wasn't easy." He admitted. "I wanted on that team, I love Quidditch, and Harry's never even seen a game." He sighed. "I should have taken that dive. I could have done it!"

"I believe you." Hermione replied, folding her legs beneath her as she shifted position.

"You know what they're going to say about Slytherin, when the rules were bent to get him on the team, right?" Draco asked. "That we're cheating."

Hermione sighed. "Just one more thing for them to say about us." She shook her head. "We'll know the truth, and that will make us stronger."

"Optimist." Draco teased.

"I have to be." Hermione countered. "Otherwise I'd be forced to run home the next time Pansy calls me a mudblood, or a Gryffindor calls me a dirty Slytherin." She shook her head. "I have to believe I can make Slytherin better, that I can make our world better."

Draco nodded. "We will, Hermione, you'll see." He looked up at the ceiling, watching the seaweed sway. "We'll make them see. We'll make them _all_ see. Everyone who's booed us, or sneered, or maligned Slytherin, who's called us bigots or acted holier than thou. They'll thank us someday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, portions of this have been taken from the canon text. I am not trying to pass this sections off as my own; I do not own Harry Potter: I am not JK Rowling, and make no money from this fanfiction.


	8. Anything You Can Do (I Can Do Better)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a chat with Dumbledore, Draco has a chat with Severus, and Ron puts his foot in his mouth.

The next morning found the Common Room somewhat frostier toward Harry that it had been since he first night. While no one would be leaking what happened to the team to anyone from another house, everyone within Slytherin knew, and few were happy. The Slytherin Quidditch team had been on a proven winning streak, and no one liked the fact that the seasoned, two-season-winning seeker was being replaced by a green firstie, no matter how impressive the other firsties may have thought his acrobatics his first time on a broom. They also didn't like or trust the fact that the Headmaster had insisted on his appointment. Within Slytherin House it was well known that Albus Dumbledore was biased against them, and favoured their rivals in Quidditch (and everything else) Gryffindor.

Harry endured several hissed epithets at him and the glares of his Housemates. He wondered if this was how Hermione felt, like she was under a magnifying glass and his housemates were looking for just the right angle to fry him. It made him walk a little quicker, until Daphne pulled on his arm because she couldn't keep up.

"Sorry, Daphne." He said, slowing down.

Daphne looped her arm around his as if he was her escort to a party, forcing him to slow to her speed. "You can make it up to me by not rushing ahead." She teased, and then added in a lower voice. "It'll be all right, Harry. You just need to show them what we all saw yesterday."

"What if I can't?" Harry asked the blonde girl on his arm. "What if it was just a fluke?"

Daphne sighed and just patted his arm comfortingly.

* * *

After class, during the time intended for homework, or more likely, sleeping before Astronomy class, Harry asked directions from a few portraits, straightened his shoulders and marched to the statue that was supposed to conceal the Headmaster's office. He didn't know how Hermione did it every day. He was ready to give up the chance at Quidditch, and he had really gotten excited about it overnight.

Standing in front of the statue, he realised he had no idea what the password was. He thought attempting to just use the Slytherin password, but just as he opened his mouth, the gargoyle moved aside, and Professor Dumbledore was smiling at him, looking like every wise wizard from fairy tales.

"Ah, Mr. Potter." Albus Dumbledore said, in his soft voice. "Won't you join me for a walk?"

Harry blinked, but smiled slowly. "Yes, sir. I had wanted to speak to you."

"How fortuitous. Shall we walk?" Dumbledore replied, starting off.

"Yes, sir." Harry had to take a few steps to catch up with the headmaster. They walked along the hallways, Harry surprised by just how quickly he had to walk to keep up with the much older wizard.

"I am sorry that I hadn't been able to take the time to meet you personally before this." Dumbledore said, in his soft, disarming voice.

"Er, well...that's okay." Harry said, following along with the man. "I didn't expect you too."

"When I saw your flying lesson, it was as if the years had fallen quite away." Dumbledore reminisced.

"Did you fly, sir?" Harry asked, looking around the trophy room in which they found themselves, where cups, shields, plaques, and statues glittered in silver, crystal and gold.

"I could fly of course. Still can, even in my old age." Dumbledore said, with twinkling eyes. "But I was far too focused on my studies to be a Quidditch player." He shook his head, the tassel on his violet hat shaking slightly. "No, you reminded me of your father."

"My... _father_?" Harry repeated, eyes widening. He had heard about his father of course, both Hagrid and Aurora had talked about how much he had looked like his father, but he had never seen so much as a picture. "Did you know him well?"

"I did." Dumbledore said with a nod. "He was the pride of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for six years." He nodded toward the case. "Look, there."

Harry turned toward the case that they were standing nearby, and his eyes instantly caught on the photo near the middle of the case. There, holding a red ball, was someone who looked rather like him, if he were older, right down to the messy hair that no comb or hair gel could tame. It was, perhaps the oddest thing he had encountered since entering Hogwarts. He watched the boy in the photo grin and nudge the boy next to him, and then turn back to the photographer. His throat felt as if it would close over. He had always dreamed of having a family, of the car accident never having happened, and sleeping somewhere other than a cramped cupboard with spiders nesting in his hair. While he had discovered that the car accident was fake, he also knew he'd never get the chance to know his parents.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't feel it when the Headmaster placed an old, weathered hand on his shoulder. "I know how hard it must be for you here, finding out what you are, and the weight of being the Boy-Who-Lived. That's why I asked Severus to put you on the quidditch team, to give you something where you could be good for yourself instead of for your loss."

Harry swallowed and his mouth opened and closed, but he couldn't seem to make any words come out.

"Your father would have loved to see you fly." Dumbledore continued. "The very first thing he went out and bought when your mother told him she was pregnant was a toy broom for you. He'd be proud to know how good you are."

All thoughts of asking the Headmaster to allow Professor Snape to take him off the team were forgotten as Harry stared so hard at the photo and tried to imprint it in his mind. Ever since Weasley had made that comment in Potions he had struggled with the idea that his Gryffindor parents might not have accepted him as he was. Despite himself, he heard his own voice asking: "Would...would they have been ashamed that I'm in Slytherin?"

"Harry, I knew your parents." Dumbledore interrupted with a frown. "They were good people with good hearts. They loved you more than anything, and house ties would not have stopped that. Your mother had many friends in other houses, even one in Slytherin, and everyone loved James. You mustn't allow where you were Sorted to limit you. Real friendship is powerful magic. You can have friends from any House, no matter what people might say, even Gryffindor or Hufflepuff."

Harry nodded, but couldn't help remembering the Sorting Hat song:

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

* * *

Draco made his way to his godfather's office nervously. He stood outside the door for several minutes, debating just turning around and heading back to the common room. He lifted his fist to knock and then dropped it again, afraid of disappointing the Potions' Master.

"Are you planning to stand out there all night, Mr. Malfoy?" Came the voice from inside, making the blond flush and jump in surprise.

Draco opened the door to the office and slid inside, closing it behind him. "May we talk, Uncle Sev?"

"Of course, Draco." Severus answered, sweeping a hand to the chair. "Shall we play a game of chess while we talk?" Usually, he wouldn't have offered, not even for his Slytherins, but Draco was a special case, especially since Severus had been the one to teach him to play chess in the beginning.

"I'd like that." Draco answered, taking the seat on the other side of Professor Snape's desk, as he got out his chess set. "How have your classes gone today?"

"The usual dunderheads." Snape scoffed, setting up the board. "A fifth year tried to blow himself up today. I am always astounded by how much students backslide over the summer." He made his opening moved and shook his head. "But something's bothering you Draco, let's not waste time on the incapabilities of your of your schoolmates to understand basic potions theory, shall we?"

Draco let out a breath, and let the mature, adult mask he had been trying do hard to hold up fall to the ground. "This isn't how it was supposed to _be_ , Uncle Sev." He said, sulkily, barely resisting the urge to cross his arms, solely because he was looking at the board. "I was _supposed_ to come into Slytherin and be listened too, like Crabbe always listened before."

Snape snorted, unimpressed. "While your blood and your family's power and wealth do give you an advantage, one cannot simply _coast_ in Slytherin House. Ambition, Draco."

"I know." Draco sighed. "But then this _Quidditch_ thing...I was the one to explain Quidditch to Harry, Uncle Sev! I've been tutored by _actual_ retired players. He never even _heard_ of the game a month ago!" He made a lackluster move, staring at the board. "Father's going to be unhappy. He's going to ask why he _bothered_ wasting money on brooms and training for me, if I can't even best a boy who's never been on a _broom_ in his life before." His voice dropped slightly, as if hoping his godfather wouldn't hear. "I don't want to disappoint him."

Severus ran a finger across his forehead in thought. Lucius was his friend, but he had done a number on his son, albeit unintentionally. His own obsessive need for perfection and status would have paralyzed someone weaker than Draco. He wasn't quite sure how to approach it at first. "Draco, you cannot live your life paralysed by the fear of disappointing your father. You must learn to live for yourself. As much as Lucius has a plan for your life, he would be exceedingly displeased with a mindless construct for a son, instead of a cunning young man who can think for himself."

Draco blinked. "Are you saying my father _wants_ me to disobey him?"

Severus snorted. "Certainly not. As far as Lucius is concerned, I know for a fact that he has charted out your life as he wishes it to be since before you were conceived." He ignored the disgusted face that crossed Draco's face. Childish ideas of parental celibacy was not something he was about to pander to, especially not from Draco. " _However_ , what your father doesn't understand is that he would be terribly bored with a son who followed his every whim and bent to his will. Take your mother," Severus advised, moving his knight. "Unlike Amaranth Parkinson who was trodden underfoot into being a broodmare and not allowed to influence her daughter, your mother is respected as your father's equal, and he values her contributions."

Draco considered this with his next move. It made sense. It didn't make him feel better, but he came to Severus for truth, not platitudes. "He's not going to like Hermione, is he?" Draco asked. It was a rhetorical question. "He always says Muggleborns don't have strong magic, that they can't keep up with purebloods, but Hermione's not like that...she masters almost every spell she comes across before anyone else in the class. She's sharp and quick." He slumped in his seat. "Even _I_ have to work at it. Sometimes I get _mad_ at her because it just comes so easily to her, even though I shouldn't. Father...if I let a _muggleborn_ get better marks than me..." He didn't know how his father would react, perhaps with the same sneers and dismissive attitude he had for everyone else, everyone not a pureblood, or everyone he called muggle-lovers. His shoulders crashed in, afraid of that kind of disapproval. "Some muggleborns might be like that, but Hermione's not. If I tell him thatt..." He frowned. "I'm not supposed to _like_ muggleborns."

Severus heard the struggle under the adolescent whinging in Draco's voice, and ignored the latter. "You have a choice, of course." Severus said, lightly. "You can remove Ms. Granger from your favour and allow her to make it, or not, on her own. I'm sure people like Mr. Derrick would find that preferable. You would not have to worry about your father's displeasure then."

Draco shook his head, echoing the violence on the chessboard as a bishop took out a rook. "No, the bullying would get worse, and even though I shouldn't...I _like_ her. She's easier to hold a conversation with than Vince, or even Theo."

Severus put his hands on the desk, disregarding the game for a moment. "Draco, you already know what you want to do. You do not need me to spell it out for you. If it is reassurance you are seeking, I am not your father to punish you and disapprove, or your mother to coddle you and tell you it will all be all right. What I will do is tell you this - _if_ Lucius is displeased, I will support you to the best of my ability, no matter what comes."

Relief flashed on Draco's face. "You mean it Uncle Sev?"

Severus scoffed at the question. "Try not to be as idiotic as your peers, Draco."

Draco nodded and relaxed, returning to the Common Room after the chess game had finished and prepared for Astronomy that night.

* * *

Friday morning dawned, and Hermione was cranky. She hadn't slept well after Astronomy class, partially from the way Aurora had kept poking her to make her maintain proper posture and partially from the oddness of going to bed so late on a school night. She had only barely managed to keep from hexing Pansy that morning, something Daphne had noticed right away. Draco had tried to soothe her with cakes, which had helped her mood slightly, especially since she enjoyed Potions, but then there was Ronald Weasley.

Usually, she could ignore him. He wasn't too terribly hard to figure out, after all. He was someone who wanted to prove himself different than his brothers and get attention, so he was loud, brash and terribly uncouth. She had never _heard_ an eleven-year-old with such a vocabulary as Ronald Weasley. He also didn't like that she was better than he was in class.

This was even more obvious after Potions, where Snape had praised her work with a 'Granger and Malfoy have both managed to make their potions turn the right colour, so I can ascertain that the problem is not with the directions before the lot of you.' Hermione realised that words like that from Snape were far harder to get then 'well dones' from McGonagall, Sprout, or Flitwick.

After class, Weasley had been chortling with his friends about how Snape was only 'praising Slytherin's pet muggleborn,' to keep Dumbledore happy.

Harry, loyal but a tad impulsive, had jumped in, flushing slightly. "You're just cross because your potion looked like something from the bottom of the Black Lake!"

"Like this class even matters." Ronald scoffed. "No one uses potions after graduation. When she's a housewife, even _Granger_ will buy her potions, just like everybody else."

Hermione had been willing to ignore the idiot, but that statement brought her up short. Sexism had not been something she had encountered in Hogwarts so far. Blood bias, yes, but not anything like that. There were an about equal number of teachers, and the history books talked about many powerful witches. " _Housewife_?" She spat.

Ron just laughed. "Yeah, you're right, no one would want to marry a bushy-haired horror like you. No Slytherin would marry a muggleborn, and the other Houses would stay well away. You'll probably end up a dried out old secretary at the Ministry or taking over for Madam Pomfrey." Parvati, the Gryffindor Patil twin was even looking at him sideways then, taking several steps away, hands on her hips, but Weasley didn't notice.

"I'm not going to do _any_ of those things." Hermione spat in irritation. "I'm going to be a great witch and do something to change the wizarding world." She didn't know what, but she _wouldn't_ be relegated to some mediocre job.

Ron scoffed. "What are you hoping you can get your little friend to share some of her mother's scarlet woman tricks? No witch is ever able to beat a wizard in a fair fight. Even Ravenclaw got bested by Gryffindor."

Harry, who had seen Hermione's duelling lesson with Snape during their last wizarding culture class, jumped in. "Is that a challenge?"

Ron blinked. "What are you on about, Potter?"

"Are you challenging Hermione, Weasley?" Harry repeated. "Or don't you think you can take her?"

Ron's eyes widened, as Hermione wheeled on her friend. "Harry, what are you _doing_?" She hissed.

"Come on, Hermione. You can take him." Harry encouraged. "Can't you?"

"Well, _of course_ , but it's against the _rules_." Hermione hissed.

"So we make sure you don't get caught." Draco replied.

"Let her alone, you two." Ron suggested. "She's just scared. She hasn't even found a spell to master her own hair yet." He shook his head. "I can take her anytime on my own."

"Okay, fine!" Hermione snapped. "Proper duel, tonight. Who's your second?"

Ron turned and looked at his friends, who seemed as if they had no idea what had happened. "Seamus. I suppose Malfoy's going to be your second, so he can save you when things get rough?"

Hermione shook her head. "Daphne." She said, tilting her head back towards the blonde. "I think she wants a few shots at you for calling her mother a scarlet woman. Honestly! Who talks like that?"

Daphne's smile turned a little vicious. ""Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

"Right, we'll see you then." Weasley said, and wandered off with his group.

Hermione looked back at her friends and covered her face in shame. "I shouldn't have let myself get so angry! We're not supposed to go wandering around the school at night, think of the points we'll lose Slytherin if we're caught, and we're bound to be. It's really very selfish, but he made me so _mad_."

Draco put an arm over her shoulders and gave her a cocky smile. "Maybe if you were a Gryffindor you would have to worry about getting caught, but you're a Slytherin, and we have cunning. Don't worry about it, just focus on hexing Weasley into next week."

* * *

Even with Draco's comforting and encouraging words, and Daphne reassuring her that they'd be fine, and that Weasley couldn't cast his way out of a paper bag it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Hermione knew, as she laid in her bed listening to Pansy's wheezing snores, that there was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Hermione was terrified she'd end up getting herself expelled and sent back to the muggle world. She'd lose all the friends she had made.. On the other hand, Weasley's reddened face kept looming up out of the darkness in her mind - this was her big chance to show him what a _real_ witch could do, and that she wasn't anyone's pet.

"Half-past eleven," Daphne whispered from the other bed. "We'd better go. You ready?"

Quietly, they threw on their school robes, picking up their wands and up the stairs into the Common Room. Gemma was studying in a corner, but raised an eyebrow, and turned away, pretending not to see them.

Draco and Harry appeared a moment later, looking far too chipper when they were going to get in so much trouble.

"This is a horrible idea." Hermione muttered, but she left the Common Room anyway. "I'm going to lose all the points I got from McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

Despite the complaints carried out in whispers, the four climbed the many stairs to the trophy room. It was eerie in the night in a way that it hadn't been during the day, Harry realised, as the trophies and other awards cast weird, ungainly shadows on the wall. Weasley wasn't there yet.

"Maybe the so-called brave and courageous Gryffindors chickened out." Draco said with a laugh.

"You wish, Malfoy." Ron's voice said, as the door opened, and he walked in with Seamus Finnigan and Neville. "The Fat Lady left and we couldn't leave Neville alone."

"Hi Neville." Hermione said, with a hopeful smile. She still wanted to think that the Gryffindor she had tried to help on the first night might accept her despite her house.

"H...hi." Neville squeaked.

"Come on, let's get on with this, there's no need to terrorise poor Neville." Ron snapped.

Hermione's jaw tensed. She had been trying to be _nice_ , but just because she was in Slytherin, she was apparently 'terrorising' Neville, rather than just being polite. Fine. _Fine_. She could play the villain if she had to, injustice and bigotry that it was. "Very well." She said, brushing off her robe, and taking the standard stance, presenting her wand, waiting for him to do so as well.

As the seconds ticked by, Harry chuckled under his breath.

"Merlin, Weasley, do you even know how this works?" Daphne called.

Finally, Ron did the same, and Hermione bowed, but kept her eyes on the Gryffindor, just in case. He bowed even more shallowly, and they turned and took their paces.

Draco started the count off. " _One...two...three!_ "

Ron pointed his wand. " _Rictu_ …"

Hermione was quicker. " _Mucus ad Nauseam_!" The jet of light hit him in the chest, and Ron doubled over, sneezing hard. He then threw a Jelly-Legs jinx, that took Hermione's legs out from under her. She ignored it at first, firing off a _Calvorio_ that removed his ginger hair, and when Ron gasped and clutched his pale, bald head, she did the countercurse on her legs, taking the hand Daphne offered her.

" _Tarantallegra_!" Ron shouted, but his pronunciation was off, and it did nothing.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Hermione snapped, and the boy froze in place, eyes wide in shock.

"Nice try, Weasley." She said, with a slight nod. "Of course, I can't have you talking about this…" She cast a quick tongue-tying curse. "I'll release the body bind so you can get back to your Common Room, because no matter what you think of me, I'm still fair." She met his eyes, though. "But next time you want to suggest a witch isn't as good as a wizard, you remember this."

She then turned around and headed to the door. "Goodnight, Neville. Goodnight, Seamus." She opened the door, before releasing the curse, smartly dodging the stinging hex the redheaded boy threw as soon as he had movement in his arms. "How unsportsmanlike, Ronald." She scolded. "But why did I expect better? Oh, and by the way? It's ta- _RON_ -ta- _LEG_ -gra, not ta- _RAN_ -ta- _LOG_ -gra."

* * *

The four crept from the trophy room, despite the odd stillness of the halls. They had just barely left the trophy room when they heard a voice. "Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible in the opposite direction from Filch...and the safety of the dungeons. They scurried silently back toward the door, away from Filch's voice. "They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Daphne, spooked by a wandering mouse, let out a squeak, and jumped on Harry, making him crash into one of the suits of armour. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following - they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going - they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead.

I - knew-this -was-a-bad-idea.," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I - told - you."

"Yes, Hermione, but right now we have to get back to the Common Room." Draco admitted, in better shape than the rest of them. "Or at least find a place to hide until everyone can catch their breath."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them. It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves - _please_ \- you'll get us thrown out." Harry pleaded.

Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please." Hermione said, all but begging and terrified of what might happen.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"We'll tell the Bloody Baron you helped us." Daphne suggested, with a charming smile. "I think he'd be ever so grateful."

" _Weeeelllll_ …." Peeves said, considering this while rocking back and forth in front of them.

"Don't pander to it!" Draco snapped. "It's just a nuisance poltergeist. Dumbledore only keeps it around because he thinks it's funny."

"Draco!" Hermione snapped, but the damage was done.

" _STUDENTS OUT OF BED!_ " Peeves bellowed angrily, the bobbles on his hat, quivering, " _STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!_ "

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door - and it was locked. Harry was seconds from panicking, but before he could, Draco sent an _Alohamora_ at the lock, and it clicked and the door swung open - they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please."'

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right -please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay."

"I'm not so sure about that." Daphne whispered, pressing closer to Harry, and pointing.

Everyone turned. Harry was sure he'd walked into a nightmare for a moment - this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden. They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs. It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob - between Filch and death, he'd take Filch. They fell backward - Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared - all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the safety of the blank wall that led to the Slytherin Common Room.

" _Argent_!" Draco snapped and the wall slid open. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, onto the couches. It was a while before any of them said anything. Daphne had curled up next to Harry as if he would protect her, while Hermione had done the same next to Draco, and was still quivering in adrenaline, fear, or both.

"That was a _cerberus_." Draco said in awe. "They're really rare. Why would they have a _cerberus_ in a school? They guard the gates of Hades, for Salazar's sake!"

"How'd you know that?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

"Mythology is important." Daphne said with a shrug, her head still on Harry's shoulder. "There are truths in myth."

Hermione had had enough with this crazy night. "It was guarding something." She said tiredly. "Didn't you see its' feet? It was standing on a trapdoor."

"I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads." Harry admitted.

"Come on, let's get back to bed." Draco suggested, helping Hermione up from the sofa. "We can have a bit of a lie in this morning." The two boys saw the girls to the stairs, and then headed to their own dorm, where Draco fell quickly to sleep.

Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed back into bed, though. The dog was guarding something... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide - except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though they had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people might have found Ron a little out of character here, but I was basing some of the things he was saying on Molly and her attitude toward Fleur and Hermione in the books.


	9. Love Will Tear Us Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus makes a surprising move that disturbs Aurora, Draco receives a letter from Lucius, and Hermione turns twelve.

Aurora was just preparing to call it a morning and head to bed. It was Saturday morning and the beginning of her time to relax, or it would have been if it weren't for the Headmaster, stopping her from heading back to her tower and the warmth of her bed.

"Aurora." He said, in that soft, unassuming tone that tended to put people at ease. "Would you please join me in my office after breakfast?"

Aurora paused, stifling a yawn. "Does it have to be right away?" She asked. "Friday was my NEWT class, and I'm tired, Headmaster."

Albus frowned. "I'm sure it won't take long, Aurora."

"Of course, sir." Aurora agreed, ignoring the temptation to grimace and reaching for a cup of tea instead. She usually avoided caffeine on weekends and in the morning especially, but she knew she would need all her wits about her. Usually Albus was nothing more than a sweet old man who happened to be her employer. He would talk to her about how her classes or her days were going, but unlike Severus, Minerva, or even Poppy, she was left mostly to her own devices. This was a strange development.

After breakfast she followed Albus back to his office and sat down when she was bid, and then tried for some sort of way to lighten the atmosphere. "Don't tell me you're sacking me a few weeks into term!" She said, with a slight smile.

Albus chuckled as he stood by the window. "Of course not, Aurora." He reassured her. "No, I wanted to speak to you about Mr. Potter."

"Is Harry all right?" Aurora asked, slightly concerned. She _thought_ he was fine, but both he and Hermione had been distracted the evening before.

Albus twinkled at her as if she had given the proper answer to a pop quiz. "He's fine, my dear. However, I am...concerned."

"Concerned?" She repeated, a little warily. "Why? Hogwarts is safe."

"Safe from outside influence, but not from inside." Albus corrected. "I am concerned with how close he seems to be to the Malfoy boy. You know what that family is like, Aurora. I fear that he might pull Mr. Potter toward the dark."

Aurora had no idea why he was discussing this with her. "Draco seems not at all like Lucius." She disagreed, gently. "He sits besides Hermione Granger in all my classes and at meals." She pointed out. "Lucius was one of the fiercest opponents when I was Sorted."

"I have noticed that." Albus allowed. "And while I _hope_ that you are right and the boy has grown beyond his family's bigoted opinions, I am still concerned. I'm sure I don't have to remind _you_ of all people what happened with Barty."

Aurora didn't usually fall into the expressionless mask that less subtle Slytherins used as their best defence. She preferred to obfuscate with charming smiles and obscure astronomy facts that often made people think she had her head in the clouds and was no threat. She preferred to be underestimated, but at that statement her face went as blank as anything. "Yes, Headmaster." She bit out. "You definitely _don't_ have to remind me what happened with Barty."

Albus frowned, and patted her hand. "I'm sorry, Aurora. I did not mean to hurt you. I didn't realise you still felt so strongly."

"Teaching at Hogwarts does not give one much free time to have a social life." Aurora observed, even as she tried her best to resurrect her usual smiles.

"I think you are the closest thing Severus has to a friend." Albus disagreed.

"We are friends, Headmaster." Aurora agreed, finally managing to ignore the hurt. "But you know as well as I do that even if I _did_ have an interest in Severus, he wouldn't return it."

Albus sighed at that. "I've put him through much more than I should have." He admitted, to Aurora's surprise. "It was necessary, and it may become necessary again, but if anyone deserves happiness, it's Severus."

"Excuse me, Headmaster, but I don't think you brought me here to discuss this." Aurora said, a bit more sharply than she had intended. "This is about Harry, is it not?"

"Yes, yes of course." Albus agreed, "My apologies. You have a soft spot for Mr. Potter, do you not? I noticed it when you offered to deliver his letter."

"He's a sweet boy."Aurora observed, shaking her head. "And being muggleborn or muggle-raised in Slytherin is difficult. No one knows that better than I do."

"Indeed." Albus replied with a smile. "I want you to take him under your wing, as it were. If the Malfoy boy or his Housemates influence him toward the dark, use yours to attempt to pull him back, become a mentor as well as a teacher. I'm afraid Severus's feelings towards James Potter would prevent him from becoming truly close to the boy."

"I'll do what I can, Headmaster." Aurora said, pasting on a smile she didn't feel and nodding her head. She affected a yawn. "If that is all?"

"Yes, of course." Dumbledore replied, with a smile. "Get some rest, Aurora."

Aurora _had_ been tired, but by the time she returned to her tower and crawled into her bed, all of her tiredness had been burned away, and she found herself pulling her curtains tighter and trying to find some solace, or at least _sleep_ in the artificial darkness.

* * *

Draco received a letter. It was on his nightstand when he woke up at almost noon from the midnight adventure. The house-elves must have delivered it to him after he didn't show at breakfast for normal delivery. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and reached over for the letter. He knew the hand that had written him the moment he saw the address, and swallowed. He wanted to rip the letter open, but instead he forced himself to open it calmly, even though his insides were dancing a jig.

_Son,_

_Severus has assured me that your ingredient preparation is superior to that of even his older years, and that you are doing well in your classes. Do not slack because things come easily. I have heard from other sources, however, that you have been associating with an..._ _ undesirable _ _. I have taught you better than that. Do not forget who you are, Draco._ _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_ _, never forget that._

_Your Father_

Well. Draco frowned slightly, but he knew it could have been a _lot_ worse. He was almost glad of that, but the guilt ran through him anyway. How many days had he sat in front of the Malfoy Tapestry, tracing the crest and focused on those very words? How many times had he counted generations, feeling the honour and the weight of his name? He had so many people to live up to, not the least of which his father. Could he disappoint them all?

He got up and went to Severus's office, only to find it empty, with no sign of where his godfather might have gone. The Potions' Lab was equally empty. Unsure what else to do, he headed for the library, struggling between what he wanted (his friends) and what was expected of him (abandoning Hermione). It was made even more complicated by the fact that he wanted to make his father proud. With a sigh, he headed to the library, hoping he could find some hint of what to do in the history books where his family were mentioned. He had talked this all over with Professor Snape already, of course, and Severus had promised to support him, so there was that.

The first thing he noticed in the library, however, was Hermione. It was hard to miss her, even half-hidden at one of the tables, thanks to her hair. He had wanted to figure out what to do, and he knew a sign when he saw one. He walked over to Hermione's table, and sat down across from her, shoving the letter deeper into his pocket. "Hey, Hermione. What are you reading?"

"Books on cerberuses." Hermione answered, batting a curl out of her eyes. "What are you doing at the library on a Saturday?"

Draco gave her a smug grin, hiding his doubt as best he could and lying through his teeth. "Looking for you, what else?"

* * *

Severus Snape was in his private lab, brewing for Madam Pomfrey, who had a bald Ronald Weasley in her infirmary. It wasn't often that Hogwarts required hair-growth potions, and as such she didn't keep any in stock. He was distracted out of his stirring by frantic knocking on his door.

He looked up in surprise, and his brows went inward. Draco didn't know where his private lab was, Aurora just walked in without knocking, and Albus always knocked once. Madam Pomfrey always contacted him via Floo, and none of the other teachers bothered him when he was brewing. "Come in."

The door opened, and Septima Vector walked in, her dark hair falling about her shoulders. "Snape, I think you need to go see Aurora."

Severus's eyebrows climbed at that. "Why?" He asked. "She should be sleeping."

"Yes, well, _instead_ of sleeping, she's blasting some godforsaken record on repeat. One of my seventh-year Ravenclaws told me, and I couldn't get her to open the door when I tried."

Damn. That wasn't good. Obviously Albus had said something at their meeting that had upset her. He looked at his now-sludgy potion and vanished it. Weasley would have to be bald for awhile longer. He had more important things to worry about than eleven-year-olds who had lost their hair. Aurora only barred Septima from her tower when she was feeling her lowest, when she felt as though she needed to curl up in a corner and tend her wounds. He nodded curtly to Septima and then headed for the stairs.

* * *

"Hey, Daph," Harry said, falling onto one of the couches beside the blonde girl. "Professor Sinistra let it slip to me last night after our extra lessons that Hermione's birthday is coming up on the nineteenth. I was thinking you and I and Draco could do something for her, but I don't know anything about what girls want for their birthdays in either world. Are you in?"

Daphne looked up, green eyes gleaming. "I am _so_ in. You have _no_ idea how much I want to get ahold of her hair." She tilted her head thoughtfully, unintentionally mimicking her mother. "And I do love planning a party."

Harry wondered if he had just made a mistake, but Daphne looked too pleased for him to suggest that she perhaps scale it back a little. "Just tell me what I need to do. If we can throw a great magical party, maybe things will be easier for all of us."

Daphne rewarded him with a sparkling smile that made him feel like he had won a lottery. "You're _brilliant_ , Harry. When Pansy pulls her head out of her arse, I'm not letting her within five feet of you."

"Oh...kay?" Harry replied, confused, but pleased his plan was working.

* * *

Severus wiped a hand over his face when he found himself outside the Aurora's room and hearing the familiar strains of Joy Division. Aurora had spent years perfecting her ability to blend into wizarding society, and that very rarely slipped this badly. Whatever Albus had said had hurt her bad enough to draw the Peckham punk out of the usually polished princess.

He dismantled the wards and billowed into the room, casting an eye over the image he found: The record player was unsurprising, and Aurora was curled up around a pillow, in a ratty Millwall F.C. shirt, and surrounded by tissues. He wanted to know what had happened, but he was a spy, and he knew better. If Albus had taken an interest, her tower was likely just as bugged as the dungeons. He threw open her wardrobe and pulled out some clothes, throwing them onto the bed. "Get up."

"Go ' _way_ , Sev'rus." Aurora groused, instead, sounding waterlogged.

"Wallowing won't do anything." He said instead. "We're going out."

"Nine years, and _now_ he asks me out." Aurora said, tilting her head up and talking to the castle, but it came out far less playful than her usual teasing. "Can you believe this man, Hogwarts?"

"I _will_ hex you into the shower." Severus said dryly. "You and the castle can commiserate later."

It took nearly an hour, but eventually a far-less-splotchy Aurora found herself sitting across from Severus Snape in a muggle cafe in Dufftown, staring into an overly priced cup of tea and ripping a sandwich into bits. "He's _awful_." She seethed. "He's usually so nice, but that was _awful_ of him." She grumbled to herself. "Judgemental old arsehole."

Severus had an idea of what had happened, but he didn't understand how it could have possibly come up. "Indeed." He drawled instead. "What happened?"

"He wanted to talk about Harry." Aurora informed him. "He wants me to take Harry under my wing, and make sure Draco isn't a bad influence on him." The edge entered her voice again in frustration.

Severus was slightly more surprised by this than he probably should have been. Not because Dumbledore had already judged Draco by his father, but for the fact that he had anticipated the headmaster asking _him_ something like that. "And that was upsetting why?"

"Because while he is hoping that Draco - who spends every day with a muggleborn - has grown ' _beyond_ ' his family's opinions, 'he's sure, he doesn't have to remind _me_ what happened with _Barty_.'" Aurora, instead of getting loud, had dropped her voice to a hiss. "And then he suggested that he didn't realise that bringing it up might _hurt_ me."

The Potions Master winced at that. Albus Dumbledore had made one giant misstep with that one. The old man should probably be glad to be her boss, because he remembered _vividly_ what had happened the last time he had made the mistake of bringing up Barty Crouch Jr. "Are you alright?"

"Why _wouldn't_ I be alright?" Aurora grumbled. "It's been _years_ , why would I still be bothered by what happened _years_ ago?" As if to punctuate her statement, a glass shattered in someone's hand a few tables away.

Severus reached out and took her hand, loosening the death-grip she had on the teacup. "He gave you up for people who hated you. You deserve to move on."

"You first." Aurora muttered under her breath, not knowing or caring if he could hear her.

* * *

Daphne cornered Hermione in their bathroom early on September nineteenth. Hermione had no reason to suspect that Daphne knew it was her birthday, and Daphne waned to keep it that way, so she put on a suitably curious look. "Hermione?" She asked, as the two girls were dressing. "My mum sent me a new charm she developed that needs tested out, but it didn't work like she said it would on my hair, probably because it's so straight." Daphne picked up her curtain of stick-straight golden hair and dropped it with a sigh. "Would you let me try it on you? You have better hair texture for it, and Mum needs it tested on natural hair."

Hermione blinked in surprise as she began to knot her tie. She wasn't someone who bothered with her looks unless someone was making her, she saw very little value in it, but she was curious about spell development, and Daphne had become a friend and had her back in both her duel against Weasley and Pansy's jibes. It seemed like such a little thing to let her try something out on her hair. "It won't make my hair fall out, will it?"

"I promise you won't be sporting the Ronald Weasley special." Daphne snorted in amusement. While it hadn't been seen by all that many, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff or two had seen Weasley in the hospital wing the day after the duel, and it had gotten around the school quickly enough, helped along by Draco if she was any judge.

"Okay." Hermione agreed with a shrug. "I don't see why not."

Daphne turned her wand in a half anticlockwise circles, and incanted: " _Polytropa Mesona_." Instantly, Hermione's bushy hair went straight, before curling in on itself and forming soft ringlets.

"Oh, wow!" Daphne enthused. "Stay right there for a moment, Hermione!" Daphne dove for her trunk and came up a moment later, holding a green ribbon and a tube of something green. Before Hermione could argue, she had collected most of the ringlets into a ponytail, and tied the hair ribbon about it at the nape of Hermione's neck with all the expertise of someone raised around such things.

"Here, put this on!" Daphne said, shoving the tube of green stuff at her. "It's lip gloss."

"It's _green_." Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. She was a Slytherin, but she had limits.

Daphne laughed at that. "Only until you put it on. Once It's on, it turns into the perfect pink for you."

Hermione opened the tube, finding a standard enough applicator in the green goo. "It's not very hygienic to share lip gloss."

"It's brand new." Daphne answered, with a shake of her head as she played with the shorter ringlets around Hermione's face. "My mum sent me a bunch. It's yours."

Hesitantly, Hermione applied the emerald green gloop to her lips, and was pleasantly surprised when it did just as Daphne had suggested and turned a lovely pink colour.

Daphne stood proudly by her friend and shook her head. "Now you look like a _proper_ Slytherin." She said with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're at a _school_ , Daphne. Looks don't matter."

Daphne rolled her eyes right back. "Maybe if you're a _Ravenclaw_ , but you're a Slytherin, Hermione. Appearances matter. You'll earn more respect this way. Look at Professor Sinistra. She could wear the same dowdy robes as Professor Sprout or Professor Vector, but instead, she always wears something well-tailored and of good fabric, because she knows she has to get and keep the respect of the richer students and their parents."

Hermione snorted. "One charm and a tube of lip gloss won't make people look at me differently."

"Bet you five sickles it will." Daphne rebutted. "Unless you're afraid you're going to lose."

"You're on!" Hermione shot back. She didn't need the money, but she wanted Daphne to see that silly things like this didn't matter. They shook hands and left the loo to meet the two boys in the Common Room.

Harry blinked in surprise when Daphne and Hermione emerged from the stairs that led to the girls' dorm. Hermione looked like Hermione...and yet she didn't. "Wow, Hermione, what did you do?"

"Daphne did it." Hermione said, actually surprised he had noticed. "It's just a charm her mother needed to test."

"It looks nice." Harry said with a nod, looking over to Draco, who had just emerged and was running a hand over his hair to ensure not a lock was out of place. "Right Draco?"

"What?" Draco asked, looking up and then pausing, eyes widening in surprise. "Merlin, Hermione!" He blinked, and pushed his reaction down from years of training, but even then, he flubbed his words slightly. "You look lovely, I mean…" He cleared his throat slightly. "You look even nicer than usual."

"Told you." Daphne said, smirking at her friend, who had flushed brighter than she had thought possible. "Are you boys ready to head to breakfast?"

"Yes, of course." Draco said, with a fairly decent recovery for an eleven-year-old. "Crabbe and Goyle already went down, I don't think they quite understand that the food won't run from them."

Daphne laughed at that, shaking her head and taking Harry's arm. In the days since they had met, she had accustomed him to escorting her without ever really saying anything, and she didn't even know if he had noticed. One thing that Daphne did notice, however, was that _this_ morning, Draco had offered Hermione his arm in the same way, rather than walking side by side as they usually did. It made her smile.

She was _so_ winning those sickles.

* * *

Hermione was disappointed when the post arrived bearing nothing for her. She knew it was difficult for her parents to send post for her, but she had hoped that they would bother on her birthday. She hadn't expected much else, of course, she had only known her new friends for a few weeks and none of them had discussed it.

The reaction to her minor change in appearance was distracting enough that she didn't dwell on the lack of festivities, not that it would have done any good. She hadn't had a birthday party since she had turned seven and muted Eddie Gibson: not that she had had friends to invite to one either. Usually it was just a quiet dinner with her parents, and maybe a trip out to see a show. She didn't want to just tell everyone, in case it looked like she was fishing for compliments or presents, so she just pretended that Daphne had given her the magic gloss as a birthday present, and that was enough.

She was in the library, reviewing and cross-referencing for classes the next day, when Harry came up to her, a giant smile on his face. "Hermione, I think I found something about...well, a _thing_!" He stumbled over the words, not wanting to lie, but at the same time, wanting her to think it had something to do with the cerberus and the Gringotts break-in. "Come on!"

"Should we get Draco and Daphne?" Hermione asked, as she packed away her books back into her bag, hoping that Harry truly had discovered something about why the cerberus was in the school and what it was guarding.

"They're waiting for us, they were in the Common Room." Harry answered, trying to resist the urge to shove her through the doors. "Come on, Hermione!"

He didn't have to tell her again. Hermione couldn't stand to leave a mystery unsolved, and even more she hated _not knowing_ things. She had imagined everything from an arcane relic to the idea that maybe the cerberus wasn't guarding anything at all, but merely there to grow powerful aconite, since it was said to spring from the saliva of a cerberus. She followed Harry into the dungeons, hoping for an answer, but when he swung the door open, there was only an abandoned, classroom, filled with people. "What…?"

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" Harry said, gesturing inside. "I hope you like it."

Hermione stared, suddenly realising that there were little lights floating all around the room. A second look and she saw a birthday cake, and a pile of presents on a table off to the side, and the wireless playing magical classical.

"How…? She asked, stepping into the room. "How did you know?"

"I may have let it slip."Hermione's head twisted toward the voice, and she was surprised to see a smiling Professor Sinistra, dressed, just like Daphne had pointed out that morning, in flattering purple robes.."You think a year goes by where I don't do all the star charts for the new firsties?"

"Thank you," Hermione breathed. "Everyone." She had never had a birthday like this. It wasn't like when her parents had thrown parties and invited everyone in her class, just to give her a party.

Daphne came up to her, giving her a glass of sparkling cider, and hugged her, whispering in her ear. "Since it's your birthday, I'll let the sickles go, if you promise to at least do the charm your hair in the mornings."

"Thanks, Daphne." Hermione said, blushing and hugging her back. Despite believing that looks were far less important than work done, she had liked how people had interacted with her differently. She was just as amazed by the people who had shown up, including upperclassmen like Gemma and Annalise Boline, both in their fifth year, and Marcus Flint, who despite giving her hard time when she had first started, had been polite enough after Harry had made the Quidditch team.

The presents were a nice touch as well, and it was far more than she had ever anticipated. Daphne had made her perspective clear with a set of emerald green robes, Harry had given her some galleons, claiming he had no idea what to buy her, Professor Sinistra had given her a book on formal wizarding etiquette for young witches, and informed her that another one, on advanced potions' techniques in ingredient preparation was from Professor Snape, who had rounds that night and couldn't come. Hermione privately thought he had no desire to socialise with his students, but she wasn't willing to say so. Gemma and Annalise had both followed Daphne's guide to gift-giving, and gifted her worn books on beauty charms. Marcus had given her a pennant for her to wave during matches, and she managed to keep from rolling her eyes while she thanked him. Crabbe and Goyle had given her candy, which was oddly touching, given their appetites, and Tracey slid her a Marks & Spencer gift card, before quickly leaving the party and heading back to wherever Pansy was no doubt grousing. Apparently even Hagrid had gotten in on it, sending her a package of his rock cakes, tied with a red bow.

Heading back to the Common Room with her friends long after everyone else had made their way back, Hermione couldn't help birthday had been one of the best she could have imagined. "Thanks." She said to her friends. "This has been the best birthday I've ever had."

"You're welcome." Daphne replied. "But you should really thank Harry. It was all his idea."

Hermione turned and hugged her bespectacled friend, who was bright red. "Daph did most of the work." He admitted. "But I'm glad you liked it."

Draco threw a gesture at Daphne behind Hermione's back, and true-to-form, Daphne asked Harry if he would look at something for her, and they disappeared into the Common Room.

"I...er…" Draco paused and looked at Hermione for a moment. "I did get you a present, I just...didn't want to give it to you in front of everyone else. You know how gossip is."

"Of course." Hermione said, beaming at him. "You didn't have to get me anything, though. I'm just glad we're friends."

"I wanted to." Draco replied, fighting the urge to blush. He reached into his schoolbag, and drew out a wooden box, handing it to her. "Happy birthday, Hermione."

Hermione took the box, running her fingers over the intricate H carved into the wood in cursive whorls she could never hope to achieve.

"Well?" Draco said, watching her. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "There's more?"

Draco frowned, scoffing. "I wouldn't just get you a _box_ , Hermione."

Hermione would have argued that this wasn't just _any_ box, but she opened the catch, and her breath caught. "Oh, _Draco_!"

"Do you like it?" He asked, nervously. "I mean, if you don't I can…"

"It's _brilliant_." Hermione said, cuttiing off his suggestion. He would have to pry it back from her, because there, inside the box, lying on apple-green silk, were five perfect swan-feather quills, a penknife with a silver handle and inlaid with mother-of-pearl and a matching inkwell. She ran her fingers over the pens, and then closed the box gently, before leaning over and kissing Draco on the cheek. "It's the best birthday present I've ever gotten. Thank you."

Draco flushed pink, chest puffing slightly at the praise. "You deserve it."


	10. Hey Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco struggles with social pressure, Hermione overhears something hurtful and ends up running into a bathroom.
> 
> Oh, and there's a troll in the dungeon. Thought you ought to know.

Things settled into a sort of equilibrium in Slytherin House, which is not to say that the biases disappeared, or that everything was made better by a birthday party, far from it in fact. The war of attrition continued, splitting the house into awkwards shards that tried to force themselves into a kind of cohesive unit when faced with the other houses. Inside, however was a constant game of blood and politics that split down unusual lines, even causing Pansy Parkinson to refuse to speak to her sister Primrose, who just didn’t _care_ about a muggleborn being Sorted into her House, as long as the girl did the work and got them points.

It didn’t take Hermione long to inure herself to the slings and barbs thrown at her over her blood status. They still hurt, but she toughened her skin, and didn’t let it show. If she hadn’t had friends, she may have struggled more, like she did in primary, but despite the slings and arrows tossed at her, she at least had people who cared: Harry, Draco, and Daphne, maybe even Professor Sinistra and Professor Snape.

It seemed to hurt Draco more as over the days, he seemed to change. He was still eating with her at dinner and walking with her to classes, and talking to her, but he seemed down and less focused on his classwork. He even stopped poking her with his quill. She hadn’t _liked_ being poked with the quill, but when he stopped, she found she missed it. He also didn’t talk about his home as much. He used to spend hours telling her all about the manor, and his mother’s peacocks and his father’s hounds, interesting rooms that had been added by eccentric ancestors, and funny stories from growing up magical. He didn’t really start conversations anymore either, and she wasn’t sure what was wrong or how to fix it. Any time she asked if he was okay, he gave her a smile and said of course, or claimed that the food had disagreed with him. She knew it wasn’t true, but she didn’t know what was wrong or how to help him. Sometimes, all she could do was give him a hug or a smile when no one was looking.

One day though, when she saw him wince as Derrick muttered about ‘the Malfoys turning into blood traitors,’ she decided she wouldn’t sit back and wait for Draco to ask for help. While Harry was distracted by Daphne one evening, Hermione left, bag in hand, and no one even looked at her sideways. Instead of heading to the library, she went to Professor Snape’s office and knocked politely on the door.

“Come in.” Came the voice of the professor from the other side, and Hermione hesitantly opened the door.

“Ah, Miss Granger.” Severus said with a nod, slightly surprised to see her. Thus far she had not sought out aid from the two teachers. “What can I do for you?”

Hermione wrung her hands nervously, certain her friend would be cross if he knew. “It’s Draco, sir. I’m worried about him. He’s not been acting like himself lately, and he even stopped poking me in class!” She sighed a little. “I’m worried about him, and scared being friends with me will hurt him.”

Severus’s eyebrows climbed at this. “I’ll look into it, Ms. Granger, but let me assure you, Mr. Malfoy could ask for no better friend than one who risks his displeasure for his own well-being. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

“Yes, sir.” Hermione said with a nod. “Thank you.”

“If there’s nothing else?” Severus asked.

“No sir.” Hermione said respectfully. “Have a good night, sir.” She quickly left again, leaving an amused Potions Master in her wake.

* * *

 Draco hadn’t tried to go to his godfather about the letter again. He felt stupid for being so bothered. Severus had said that he would support him, of course, but he didn’t want to be running to his godfather complaining about things. He was supposed to be old enough to handle this on his own, old enough to act like an adult, but he had never really coped with anything like this before. He may have gotten anything he could have wanted before, but he had also worked as hard as he could to please his father, whom he had always looked up to and respected. Outright rebellion and ignoring what his father wanted were things he had never really done. They didn’t feel liberating.

There was also the pressure from others in the House, who expected him to live up to his father, to be a leader. It was hard It had become even harder since he had heard the first hissed insults calling him a blood traitor. The guilt he felt was immense, and he began to wonder if he was doing the right thing. His friends kept looking at him in concern, Harry trying to put more on his plate as if food would help, and Hermione kept shooting him sad, worried looks with big brown eyes. The first time she cornered him in a hallway and hugged him tight, he was surprised. No one other than his mother had hugged him, but he slowly relaxed, and had to admit that maybe he liked it. Unfortunately, that only made him feel worse. This was not how he expected Hogwarts to be.

“Mr. Malfoy, a word.” Severus said briskly, after he had dismissed the rest of the class one Friday before Halloween.

The Gryffindors all oohed, over-excited at the thought that the cranky Potions’ Master might be scolding his favourite pupil, or taking points from Slytherin. Harry frowned, but Hermione pulled him on, giving Draco a hopeful smile. “We’ll see you later, Draco.”

“Yeah.” Draco agreed, packing up his things and heading to his godfather’s desk. He waited, wondering what he had done now. Lately it seemed that he couldn’t quite do anything right.

“I thought you had made your decision, Draco.” Severus said after a moment. “This sulking is unbecoming of you.”

Draco frowned slightly. “Father wrote me.” He admitted. “I thought I was sure, I thought I was fine, but...people keep looking to me  and then...I get called a blood traitor, Uncle Sev!”

Severus sighed, steepling his fingers. He knew the story he should tell Draco, but he knew he couldn’t. It still hurt him too much. Luckily, there were no shortage of stories in the ranks of the Death Eaters. “I knew a young man once…” He said slowly. “A lot like you, Draco. Born into wealth and privilege with all the power, influence and ideas of duty that a pureblood line provided. He was smart, and he wanted to be everything to everyone. He discovered too late that he couldn’t, and he died alone, a footnote in history, a name people only note in passing.” He tilted his head to his godson. “Your father has made his choices, as have I. It is not our place to make yours for you.” He nodded slightly. “You can still change your mind, Draco, but I have never seen a young witch so upset that someone had _stopped_ poking her before, and it is rare I have students worried enough to come to me about their classmates. And if you change your mind...witches can be... _unforgiving_. Be certain.”

Draco swallowed hard and nodded. “You’ll talk to my father?”

Severus chuckled. “I’ll do better than that.” He said, reaching for a quill. “I’ll talk to your mother. Now, I have marking to do, and you should spend some time with your friends. If that’s what you choose, of course.”

Draco gave him a brisk nod, picked up his bag and headed down to the Common Room. He was surprised to find Harry and Hermione waiting for him on one of the couches, when thus far they had a standing appointment with the gamekeeper. “What are you doing here? You’re normally off having tea with staff.”

“We thought you might need us, if you were in trouble.” Harry admitted.

“I told you he wasn’t.” Hermione said, flipping a page in her Transfiguration book.

“Fine, _I_ thought you might be in trouble.” Harry said, shooting Hermione a look. He knew what it was like to be called in by teachers. He still remembered when he ended up on the roof and the trouble he had been in when it happened.

Knowing there were plenty of listening ears around the common room, Draco did what any good Malfoy would have done. He puffed himself up slightly and lied like a professional. “You shouldn’t have worried, Harry. Professor Snape just had a message for me from Father that he didn’t trust to owl post.” He gave his friend a smile, then. “Thanks for having my back, though.”

“So everything’s fine at home?” Hermione checked, glancing up at him.

“Nothing my mother can’t handle.” Draco assured her.

“I guess we’ll go see Hagrid then.” Harry agreed, relieved.

Hermione gave him a smile and squeezed Draco’s hand, before joining Harry, glad that everything would go back to normal.

Draco didn’t return the hand squeeze, but he returned a slight smile, just sharp enough not to call notice. Everything would be all right, he was sure. If his mother hadn’t been an expert in getting her way, he would have gone to Durmstrang. The proof came the next morning, with his usual box of sweets, his mother telling him to pay attention to his studies and that she had added a few more cakes for him to share with his friends. She might be a pureblood, but Narcissa Malfoy was a socialite and a law-witch; she knew politics, social and ministerial. There was value in powerful allies, one did what would get the job done.

* * *

Hallowe’en dawned bright and with just a tinge of cold in the air. The halls were filled with the scent of baking pumpkin, and there was an air of excitement and expectation, even in the dungeons. Draco’s mother had sent enough fancy Hallowe’en pastries for the entire table, and Harry was shocked to discover he had mail, as a pleasant barn owl dropped a note from Aurora onto his silverware, wishing him a happy holiday and asking him to please stop by her tower before the feast. Even Hermione had received another charm for her charm bracelet, a tiny witch’s hat. The teachers even seemed to get in on the celebrations, with homework and assignments lighter than usual

Harry climbed the now-familiar stairs to the Astronomy Tower, note clutched in his hand. He knocked cautiously, knowing that Aurora was normally just waking up at this point. He was pleasantly surprised that when he knocked on the door it quickly opened to show a perky Astronomy professor, dressed in copper-coloured dress robes with a crown of leaves on her head instead of her usual braids. “Hullo Harry!” She greeted happily. “Happy Hallowe’en! Come in, come in!”

“Hullo, Professor Sinistra.” Harry said with a grin, walking into the tower, which was decorated with falling leaves, floating black candles, and tiny Jack O’ Lanterns made from large turnips. “You wanted to see me?”

“I did!” Aurora answered, happily. “The castle and I had a little chat, and I decided that I could not possibly play Seeker on one of those school brooms.” She opened a door, and pulled out a brown paper package that was obviously a broomstick. “Happy Hallowe’en, Harry!”

Harry looked at her in amazement, and then back down at the package. “No one ever…” He said after a moment. “You got me Agathos, told me about Hogwarts and now this...I...I don’t know what to say.”

Aurora understood, more than she cared to admit. She didn’t have a lot growing up either. Her parents had both worked, sometimes more than two jobs, just to provide for her. She had gamed the exchange system in her youth, flattening out galleons or melting them down, selling them for the value of the gold, and then saving out just enough cash to take to the bank and get another, just to pay the bills and take the pressure off of her parents.  “Oh, Harry,  I want to do it. It’s not like I have anyone else to spoil. The war took that possibility away from me, as much as it took away your chance for Lily and James to spoil you.” She grinned. “Just play your best, and keep your grades up.”

“I will.” Harry promised. “Thank you, Professor.”

Aurora smiled at him and tapped the broom with her wand. “We don’t want the secret out.” She whispered to him, and then tapped lightly on a wall near her desk.”If you please, dear Hogwarts.”

Harry was confused for a moment and then blinked as a door appeared. “How?” He asked, surprised.

“Magic.” Aurora replied with a grin. “Always be kind to the castle, Harry. These steps will take you straight to the dungeons, only two turns from the common room.” She tapped his nose. “Don’t be seen before you’re inside.”

Harry nodded and approached the door, looking down at the spiral stairs, that went so far down he couldn’t see the bottom. He reassured himself that at least if he began to fall, he had a broom. He tried his best not to be seen, but then he saw Hermione tear past him. Normally he would have called after his friend to see what had her so rattled, but he had to put his broom away first, and when he emerged from his dorm, his search for the curly-haired witch turned up nothing. Thinking perhaps she had already headed up to the feast, he headed toward the Great Hall to meet his friends.

* * *

Hermione had been having a lovely Hallowe’en. It was a holiday she had never really taken notice of before, but she threw herself into it with as much enthusiasm as she did everything about the magical world. She had even purchased Happy Hallowe’en cards by mail order, and had put several on the pillows of her friends, as well as most of the teachers’ desks. There were only two more teachers that she had to deliver two, and those were the most important to her: Professor Sinistra who had taken time out to give Hermione and Harry extra lessons, and Professor Snape who kept providing her with books on duelling and had somehow managed to pull Draco out of the funk he had been in earlier. She pressed the card to her chest as she headed towards the classroom, hoping that it would be empty so she wouldn’t be lectured on ' _unnecessary niceties_.'

Hermione stepped into the classroom, trying to determine the best place to leave the card. She didn’t want it to be _too_ obvious, but she didn’t want it to be found six months after the fact either. She wandered along the classroom, considering perches for the black envelope. She was just trying to slide it between two silver cauldrons, when she heard a crash of glass against wood and stone. She jumped, looking around, worrying perhaps that she had tipped over a specimen jar and end up with not-a-detention from Professor Snape. The floor was free of glass however, and she realised only when she heard a voice from beyond a door that whatever the crash had been had cracked the door just slightly ajar, rendering the silencing charm had been used moot.

“ _A_ mudblood _, Severus!”_ A male voice was ranting.

“ _She_ is _a Slytherin, Lucius_ .” Professor Snape’s voice said calmly. It was then that Hermione realised that they were talking about her, and that the man Professor Snape was talking to was none other than Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s _father_ . The discovery made her better nature struggle with her curiosity and self-interest. She knew she should leave. She was _eavesdropping_ on a _teacher_ for goodness sake! That could probably get her expelled! Despite this, however, Self-Interest and Curiosity sat on Better Nature until it said “uncle.”

“ _What potion fumes was that bloody hat_ inhaling _?!”_ Lucius replied, angrily.

“ _It’s rare, but it happens._ ” Severus reminded him. “ _The school governors have one employed here, remember._ ”

“ _Ah yes, Barty’s would-be bride.”_  Lucius said with a little laugh. “ _Still pining from finding out a pureblood whore is better than a mudblood wife?_ ”

Hermione blinked as water fell onto the envelope in her hands, only to realise that she was crying. Angrily, she shoved the card in between the cauldrons, wiped her face and left the room as quietly as she could. She made it only a few steps before her tears had turned into sobs, and when it did she ran towards the nearest loo. She thought she had grown a thicker skin. She hadn’t reacted to someone calling her a mudblood in _days_ . It still _hurt_ , but she hadn’t _reacted._ Now, though, she just let herself hide away in a stall and cry out all the frustration she was feeling, all of the hurt. Why hadn’t Professor Snape stood up for her? Did he believe those things too? Did _everyone_?”

Harry looked around the Slytherin table in confusion, midway through his second goblet of pumpkin juice and helping of beef. “Hey, where’s Hermione?”

Daphne glanced up at this. “Tracey said she was in one of the loos before we came up to eat.”

“She did run past me in a rush before I came up.” Harry admitted. “I thought she was coming up here. I guess I forgot.”

“Yeah, but that was _ages_ ago.” Draco said. “What could take so long?”

Daphne pursed her lips and said delicately: “Well, perhaps she’s feeling a bit _ill_. I’ll check on her after the feast.”

“No, I’ll do it.” Draco said.

“In a girl’s loo?” Daphne asked. “No, I’ll go. She might need to talk to another girl.”

“Let’s take her some food.” Harry suggested, and then leaned over and asked Flinton to conjure him a box, which Harry and Draco quickly filled. Their task, however, was interrupted by the entrance of someone else who had been missing from the feast: Professor Quirrell.

He came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know." He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence. Harry didn’t know anything about trolls really, but from the look on Draco’s face and the fact that Daphne gasped and didn’t cover her mouth, Harry could guess that the fairy tales he had heard at Mrs. Figg’s were semi-accurate.

"Prefects," Dumbledore rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

The Slytherin prefects all looked at one another. The troll was in the dungeons. So was their Common Room. They had just been ordered to their Common Room.

“Mad coot’s trying to kill us all off.” One of the sixth year students muttered.

Hands shaking, the prefects gathered them all up , and started to head in the same direction as most of the teachers. Aurora noticed, and held a hand up. “To my tower.” She told the prefect’s firmly.

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they started to climb the stairs.

“Someone had to make it.” Draco said, worriedly. “They’re stupid creatures. Barely worth breath, Father says.”

“At least we’re not going to the dungeons.” Pansy remarked. “I’d hate to be there, with a troll wandering around. It could eat me!”

The boys looked at each other, and then said in realisation. “Hermione!” Daphne turned pale.

With the teachers looking for the troll, the three friends in silent accord, turned back. Daphne apparently knew the quickest route to every bathroom in the school, and on the second try...they found it.

Hermione was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls with its’ club as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Draco, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

Draco looked down, still clutching the box of food. He had forgotten he had it in his hand, but threw it with all his might at the troll like he was about to score the most important goal in a game of Quidditch. It hit the troll in the face, sending roast beef, a turkey leg, pumpkin pie, honey cakes, roast corn, and baked apples around the bathroom.

The troll made a confused noise and picked up the turkey leg that had landed on it’s shoulder.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The troll inserted the large turkey leg into its mouth whole as if it was an after dinner mint and crunched it, bone and all.

“Run!” Draco shouted.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Daphne, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped -- it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club. Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Draco didn’t know what to do, so he said the first spell that came to his mind. “ _Everte statum!_ ”

The spell sent the troll flying backwards into the wall, and Harry flying to the side against one of the remaining stall doors. The troll’s head hit the tile with a sickening thunk that made the room shake, and as it lost consciousness, it’s club falling soundly onto its own skull.

It was Hermione who spoke first. "Is it -- dead?"

I don't think so," said Harry, I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue. "Urgh -- troll boogers." He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Daphne, Harry, and Draco angrily, cheeks flushed and lips white. "What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

“Our dormitory _in the dungeons_?” Daphne asked, pointedly.

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows. "Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall said in shock, hand over her heart.

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last. “I was upset over something someone said about muggleborns, and didn’t feel like I belonged at the feast.” She swallowed hard. “Draco, Harry and Daphne came to make sure I was safe. "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Draco hexed it. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them, and then making a face as if she had swallowed a lemon. “Five points each to you three for saving a fellow student, and for sheer dumb luck! Not many first years could take on a full-grown mountain troll. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go. Students are finishing the feast in their Common Rooms.”

“Head to the Astronomy Tower.” Snape corrected, firmly. When McGonagall gave him a strange look, he repeated. “Slytherin is in the _dungeons_ , Minerva, where we thought the troll was.”

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else. “Thank you, Harry.” Daphne said, blushing. “If you hadn’t jumped on its back…” She trailed off and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you _all_ for coming after me.” Hermione said, voice shaken.

“What did you expect?” Draco asked, and as they reached the Astronomy Tower and found themselves in the midst of an impromptu dinner party, they knew their bonds would be stronger than ever. Harry offered Daphne his arm, while Hermione took Draco’s proffered one and they sat down to the place settings with silver stars on them to finish their meals.


	11. Gonna Fly Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Quidditch! Also Hermione and Severus talk about what she overheard on Hallowe'en.

As they entered November, the weather cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake coated itself in a veneer of ice. The cold from the water above them made the Slytherin Common Room so cold that both of the large fireplaces were stoked with magical fires blaring heat at all times. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in his long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.It was Harry’s job to make sure that didn’t happen. No one outside of Slytherin knew Harry was playing. Marcus had demanded that it be kept secret, for the honour of the House, and no one would question Marcus Flint, especially when it came to Quidditch. He was one of the tallest members of the House, and had ‘towering’ down to a fine art. Harry was not immune to his intimidation tactics. In fact, it seemed only one person in the school was unbothered by Marcus’s intensity when it came to Quidditch, a redheaded Ravenclaw in Harry’s year who was pretty much attached to Marcus’s side, but not even she had gotten Marcus’s ‘ _secret weapon_ ,’ out of him.

To be honest, Harry was glad. The last thing he needed was the entire school knowing. He was fairly sure he was going to make a fool of himself and the more people who knew beforehand the more pressure to succeed he would feel. It was really lucky that Harry had Hermlone as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice and exercise drills Flint was making him do, on his own and with different members of the team. She had also lent him _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which turned out to be a very interesting read. Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert. Harry wondered if Madam Hooch had ever ended up in the Sahara Desert. It seemed like the sort of place she’d like, all open air and no one to bother her.

Hermione was slightly withdrawn since the incident with the troll, and she refused to tell anyone who had said whatever it was that had sent her into the bathroom, no matter how many times Harry or Draco offered to hex them in return, she even turned down Agathos’s offer to bite whoever it was on the ear. Harry wasn’t sure why Agathos had a yearning to bite people on the ear, but he was too distracted by how amazed everyone else was that he could speak to snakes.

“You didn’t tell me you were a _Parseltongue_.” Draco said in amazement.

“Yeah, but loads of Slytherins can probably do it.” Harry said, waving it off. ‘Professor Sinistra said Slytherin was a Parselmouth.”

“It’s a really rare gift, Harry.” Daphne told him, shaking her head. “It actually probably means you’re related to Salazar himself somewhere.”

Harry was suddenly nervous, imagining what everyone would say if they thought that not only was he a Slytherin, that he might actually be related to Slytherin himself. “Don’t tell anyone else, okay?” He asked, quietly. “I get enough attention already.”

“We won’t tell, Harry.” Hermione reassured them, as the quartet circled around a jam jar that Hermione had filled with bright blue fire for warmth. “Now, are you boys done jogging around the pitch for the day?”

Harry grinned at her. Draco had joined Harry in most of his solitary on the ground exercises, mostly so that when tryouts came next year, he would have a physical advantage. “Well, I was thinking we might want to do some more calisthenics…” He reached in his pocket for _Quidditch Through The Ages_ , “it says here that the best training regimen…”

“Oh, look there’s Professor Snape. Is he limping?” Daphne cut in, distracting them all before the boys could wind up Hermione any more.

“Looks like it.” Draco agreed. “I wonder how that happened.”

“I hope he’s okay.” Daphne said worriedly. “I wonder why he hasn’t gone to the Hospital Wing?”

As if summoned by their whispered discussion on his health, Snape limped over, eying them carefully. “What are you four doing?” He asked gruffly.

“Hermione and I just came out to fetch the boys for dinner, sir.” Daphne piped up, when Hermione shifted awkwardly and said nothing. “They’ve been training.”

Snape studied them for a moment, as if looking for some sort of deception in their faces, and finding none, sighed. “Five points to Slytherin for discipline, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy.” He swirled his robes around himself slightly. “Now all of you get inside. Miss Granger, I’d like a word with you in my office.”

“Yes sir.” Hermione mumbled, handing the jar off to Daphne, while Draco and Harry looked on, perplexed. Hermione was always eager to please teachers, especially their Head of House, and this time she looked as though she was dreading it. Something strange was happening.

* * *

 Hermione followed Professor Snape back into the castle and down to his office silently Usually she’d have a million questions to ask him, but not today; not since Hallowe’en. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk and she took it, recalling the last time she was here, asking for help for Draco. Now...she didn’t know what to think.

Professor Snape sat at his desk, and after a moment, picked up the envelope, removing the bright orange pumpkin-shaped card from it. “Thank you for the card, Miss Granger.” He said, a bit awkwardly, as if he was unaccustomed to thanking people for things.

“You’re welcome, sir.” Hermione told the floor.

“You need to work on your subtlety, Miss Granger.” Professor Snape replied with a sigh. “You overheard Lucius Malfoy on Hallowe’en, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Hermione admitted. “I didn’t mean too, I was only dropping off your card, but…”

Professor Snape held up a hand. “I understand, Miss Granger, no need to tie yourself in knots to explain.” He studied her for a moment. “Were you surprised? Surely you had figured out what Draco’s father thought of muggleborns before then.”

“Yes, sir.” Hermione repeated, still fixated on the floor.

“So why this strange behaviour, Miss Granger?” Professor Snape, asked, frustration leaking into his voice. “And stop staring at the floor when I speak to you.”

Hermione’s eyes travelled up from the floor to her Head of House’s face. “Why did you let him talk like that?” She said, in frustration, eyes bright amber with anger and hurt. “He called me a mudblood, he said...he said things about Professor Sinistra...and you didn’t say _anything_ to defend us! Do you...does _everyone_...think like that?”

Professor Snape’s hands clenched and unclenched on the desk, and he took several deep breaths before he spoke again, but even so, his tone was cooler -- not quite the tone he used with Weasley or the other Gryffindors, but not the subtly encouraging tone he normally had for her either. “Miss Granger, do you think Lucius would allow me to influence his son if he believed I held different stances on blood purity than he did?”

Hermione considered this a moment. “No…” She said slowly.

“Do you think I could have _convinced_ him that all of his views are wrong when he’s so angry as to waste a bottle of wine more expensive than my _house_?” Professor Snape asked pointedly.

“No sir.” Hermione said, sagging into her seat. “I’m...I’m sorry, sir.”

“Yes, Miss Granger, I can see that.” As he spoke, however, Filch appeared in the doorway, causing Snape to cut himself off. “Off you go, Miss Granger. Next time I will take points.”

“Yes, sir!” Hermione said, up from her seat and passing Filch to enter into the classroom. She felt horrible for doubting him. He had helped her so much in the extra classes with Professor Sinistra. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t feel as though she belonged. She stopped to pull her hair back into a ponytail, when she did what had got her into this problem in the first place: she eavesdropped.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Shocked, Hermione moved just a bit, to see into the office. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages, looking slightly concerned.

Quietly, Hermione slipped from the classroom and into the Common Room. She quickly pulled her friends aside, and with a hissed whisper, revealed that she had to tell them something, leading them into an abandoned dungeon classroom instead of talking about it in the Common Room where they might be overheard. Once she was certain they wouldn’t be overheard, Hermione told them what she saw.

“Why would Professor Snape try and get passed the cerberus?” Daphne asked, looking confused. “I thought he went with the teachers to find the troll.”

“Maybe he let it in as a distraction.” Harry said, shaking his head. “To get at whatever it is the dog is guarding.”

“Why would Uncle Severus do that?” Draco asked, not buying this at all.

“I don’t know.” Hermione admitted, not wanting to believe it either, not after she had been so wrong earlier. “Maybe he feels it’s too dangerous to have in the school, I don’t think he’d try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe...but I think we need to figure it out.”

“But what would be worth all that?” Daphne asked, waving a hand. “Albus Dumbledore is famous, he could have anything, what’s worth risking all that to guard here?”

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Goyle was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind -- he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours -- but the memory of the three-headed dog wasn’t easy to forget.

* * *

 The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. Harry had walked Daphne to breakfast, while Draco walked Hermione, as had become their routine. Harry, however, was far more nervous than usual, and the air at the Slytherin table was tense. The current winning streak was one the entire House wanted to keep going, and if it failed, it would all be on Harry.

"You've got to eat some breakfast." Hermione said to the pale-looking Potter in front of her.

"I don't want anything." Harry felt a bit sick. What would happen if he got on his broom and nothing happened?

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry." Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

“You have to eat something.” Draco said, placing rashers onto Harry’s plate before Crabbe or Goyle could finish off all of them.

“Can’t.” Harry replied.

Daphne didn’t argue, she simply prepared a cup of tea and put it in Harry’s hand. He drank almost mechanically.

* * *

 Draco, Daphne and Hermione walked toward the Quidditch pitch together, festooned in their best silver and green. Much to Hermione’s surprise, however, they were quickly joined by Morag MacDougal, Marcus Flint's Ravenclaw, who was showing her support for Slytherin in what was obviously one of Marcus’s old Quidditch jumpers, and a scarf that was longer than she was tall.

“You do realise you’re a Ravenclaw, right?” Pansy sneered as she passed them on the way to the stands.

“You do realise Ravenclaw’s not playing, right?” Morag shot back.

“Ignore her.” Hermione suggested. “She’s not worth it.”

“I see I was right about Potter.” Morag said, as they climbed into the stands.

“Right about what?” Daphne said lightly. “He wasn’t feeling well.”

“Yeah, he was a right shade of green, I could see it from my table.” Morag laughed. “Everyone heard about how Potter saved Hermione’s bracelet, and Marcus was a wee too secretive for there to be nothing strange about this season.” She grinned a mean little grin at them. “Don’t worry, I’m on your side until I make the Ravenclaw team.”

Daphne hummed in annoyance, but didn’t bother to deny it. Everyone would see that she was right soon enough, still she didn’t look too pleased.

* * *

 Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their emerald Quidditch robes, while Gryffindor would be playing in red. The mood in the locker room was serious, and not least of all because of Marcus walking around and checking on everyone in a fairly decent imitation of Snape’s swooping.

“All right team!” Marcus barked. “I’d say good luck, but I know we don’t need it. We’ve worked hard in training and we all know that Gryffindor is going to be doing their best to beat us and take second. Are we going to let them?”

“NO!” Everyone bellowed, even Harry, though his ‘bellow,’ was quite a bit quieter.

“The Quidditch cup has been in Snape’s office for two seasons, and we’re not going to let it leave, are we?”

“NO!” The team bellowed again, excitement ratcheting up, even Harry joining in just as loudly.

“Then let’s get out there and show them what Slytherins can do!”

“YEAH!”

* * *

 Harry forgot his nerves for a few moments as he followed Marcus out onto the pitch, going last for maximum surprise factor. Taking a deep breath, and hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers from the Slytherin stands, and boos and complaints from the Gryffindors.

“Slytherin has replaced Higgs with HARRY POTTER, it’s a SCANDAL, an OUTRAGE, first years aren’t allowed to PLAY!” Lee Jordan, the commentator was insisting.

“Keep your head high, Potter.” Marcus hissed under his breath to him. “Show ‘em you mean business on the pitch.”

Harry swallowed hard and nodded, even as Professor McGonagall apparently explained to Lee that Harry had permission from the Headmaster to play. Gryffindor did not seem encouraged, even as people muttered about blatant favouritism.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand. "Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to Marcus. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friends cheering for him, and someone had even charmed a Slytherin scarf to read POTTER as Daphne waved it. His heart skipped. He felt braver than he had in ages.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too --"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes -- Flint flying like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle -- that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger -- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead -- come on, now, Angelina -- Terrence Higgs playing Keeper since Harry Potter stole his spot, dives -- and saves it! Quaffle is back in play!"

Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch.That was his job, and the other part was to keep an eye out for bludgers. Marcus suspected the Weasley twins would have it out for him.

When Terrence had saved the quaffle, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Bole came chasing after it.

"Head still on, Potter?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Oliver Wood.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the -- wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Gryffindor Seeker Patricia Stimpson had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than her-- he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - - he put on an extra spurt of speed -- then it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that and tried to find the snitch again but it was lost.

He climbed again, hoping to catch sight of the little golden ball. It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Slytherin goal- posts -- he had half a mind to ask Flint to call time-out -- and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him. He reminded himself about everything Professor Dumbledore had said about his father and James Potter’s Quidditch career, and all the Slytherins who were counting on him, of Higgs who had his position stolen because Harry was _good on a broom_. He couldn’t let them down.

Lee was still commentating. "Slytherin in possession -- Flint with the Quaffle -- passes Spinnet -- passes Bell -- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose -- only joking, Professor -- Slytherins score -- "

No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went. Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand

Daphne had shrieked in Morag’s ear, while Hermione grabbed the binoculours off of Hagrid who had joined her in the stands, much to Draco’s dismay, though he concealed it as best he could, which, to be fair, wasn’t all that well.

"What are you doing?" hissed Draco, pointed face drawn..

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape -- look."

Draco grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath. Draco worked hard, trying to make out the words. “It’s a counter-jinx!” he declared. “He doesn’t know what jinx it is, so he’s trying a universal one, but I don’t think it’s strong enough!”

"What should we do?" Daphne asked, as Draco scanned the teacher’s box.

“Quirrell, look!” Draco said, handing the binoculars back.

"Leave it to me." Hermione said, marching off the stands.

Draco turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as Pucey and Flint  flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good -- every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

"Come on, Hermione,"  Daphne muttered desperately.. “Do you see anything, Draco?”

* * *

 Hermione had fought her way across to the stand, behind Professor Quirrell, who was right in front of Professor Sinistra. Pretending to fall over Professor Sinistra’s shoes, she crouched down and pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the trailing end of Quirrell’s turban. The flame caught the strange cloth, and Quirrell quickly realised he was on fire.

Using a hand from Professor Sinistra up as a distraction, she scooped the fire into a jar in her pocket and headed back to her seat.

* * *

 Whatever Hermione did had been enough.  Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back onto his broom.

“It’s okay, Daph, he’s fine.” Draco informed the girl clutching his hand.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick -- he hit the field on all fours -- coughed -- and something gold fell into his hand. "I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Wood was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference -- Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still morosely announcing the results -- Slytherin had won by one hundred and eighty points to twenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portions of the text taken from Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone.


	12. Chestnuts Roasting Over An Open Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Quidditch game, Draco goes to Hagrid's for the first time, and the half-Giant let's the alchemist out of the bag sending the quartet on a hunt for the mysterious Flamel. Severus and Aurora continue to plot in the background, and Harry bonds with his Head of House a little.

The Slytherin stands had exploded in glee when the results were announced. While most of them had doubted Harry, he had proven himself by not only staying on his broom, but by catching the snitch through any means necessary. There were already rumours being whispered about that the jinxed broom had been on purpose, to ignite the Gryffindor need to be a hero and distract them. Hermione and Draco shook their heads, while Morag had actively snorted. “If it had been planned, Marcus would have been taking advantage of their distraction to score more goals, not worrying over his Seeker.” She said succinctly as she joined Hermione, Daphne,  Draco and Hagrid in going down to the locker room doors to await the emergence of the team. Any further commentary the redheaded Ravenclaw might have given was interrupted by the appearance of the team, and Morag cutting herself off with a squeal to throw herself bodily at Flint while Hermione and Draco hurried to Harry’s side.

Hermione hugged Harry hard. “Are you okay?” She said desperately. “That was so dangerous! I don’t know how you did it, Harry!”

“I don’t know what happened.” Harry admitted. “It was like the broom was alive.”

“Jinxed, it was.” Hagrid observed. “Powerful magic, make a broom act like that, ‘specially such a new one.” He put a large hand on Harry’s shoulder. “‘M proud of you, Harry.”

“Thanks, Hagrid.” Harry said, with a big grin.

“Come on, I’ve got a nice pot o’ tea an’ some fresh rock cakes for you an’ yer friends!” Hagrid said, clapping Harry on the back.

“But… the party…” Draco said to Hermione, as she started to follow Harry and Hagrid. “There’s going to be a victory party, and we’ll miss it.” He looked longingly back at the team, lead by Flint, who was carrying his girlfriend on his shoulders, while the rest of them were cheering and recounting various plays.

Hermione just shrugged. “Probably mostly older kids anyway.” She pointed out, following behind.

Draco gave Daphne a panicked look, but sighed and followed them anyway, becoming horrified when he saw where they were going. “That’s his _house_?” He asked, amazed. “I thought it was a...a shed or something!”

“Be nice!” Hermione hissed at him under her breath.

“ _Why_ ?” Draco asked, honestly perplexed. “He’s just the _help_ , Hermione!”

“He’s still a _person_ , Draco!” Hermione said under her breath as Harry introduced Daphne to Hagrid and they chatted about the game.While she was shaking her head at the blond boy.

Draco didn’t like it, but he shut his mouth, a little horrified to see that Harry and Hermione were so comfortable in the ramshackle...well, _shack_ . Daphne, at least, he could tell wasn’t completely comfortable, but she was putting a good mask on it. He tried, but...he didn’t know why and that made it harder to try. He managed not to sneer as he sat down on a chair with a worn cushion that had seen better days, for once not even offering the better seat to one of the girls. He didn’t want to _catch_ anything.

"It was Quirrell," Daphne was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you." She had sat right beside Harry, as if she was worried the jinx might have other effects, not that Draco could blame her, he knew that her father was a master at curses that looked harmless and easily countered, but had other triggers for later.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Quirrell do somethin' like that?"

“Maybe he’s trying to get past the cerberus and steal whatever it is he’s guarding.” Harry said, making a face.

“He was the first one to see the troll on Hallowe’en.” Draco agreed, having not considered that.

Hagrid dropped the teapot. "How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?" The four Slytherins said together.

"Yeah -- he's mine -- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year -- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the …”

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Quirrell could be trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Quirrell’s a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.”I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Quirrell wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Quirrell wouldn' try an' kill a student! He used to be the Muggle Studies perfessor long before he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher! He was a _Ravenclaw_ fer goodness sake!  Now, listen to me, all three of yeh -- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel --"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

* * *

 Aurora and Severus were sitting on conjured easy chairs in one of the most ancient wings of the school, with wards and security spells wrapped around them. Aurora had chosen the spot, or rather she said, _Hogwarts_ had, and she was stroking one of the walls as they spoke. “It was Hermione that broke his concentration, Severus.” She informed him, grinning. “Came over as if she wished to speak to me, and then tripped herself over my feet, as if I wouldn’t see her cast!” Aurora let out a true witch’s cackle of mirth, shaking her head. “Set that grimy old turban of his on fire and as soon as she was sure his focus broke, scooped the fire off, apologised to me, and swanned off as if it was completely normal!”

“Little snake.” Severus said, shaking his head, with a bit of warmth in his voice, but just a bit. “Did you have any luck searching his office and classroom?”

“No.” Aurora said, mirth now gone and frustration lining her voice. “He’s not hiding anything there.”

“It has to be him.” Severus replied, shaking his head. “He showed his hand -- the troll was sloppy and imbecilic, especially since he is using one as his defence for the Stone. Why was he so terrified of that one, if he can control the one in the gauntlet so well?”

“Either way, his plan to break Harry’s neck failed. You’re certain he’s all right?” Aurora asked, concern showing despite herself.

“Walked off the field like his father come again.” Severus said, trying to bite back a sneer. Without intending to, the two teachers had split the four students of interest between them, his and hers. “Dragged the lot of them down to the Gamekeeper’s Hut.”

Aurora sighed slightly. “He’s nothing like James, Severus, not really. You didn’t see the ragged, falling apart clothes he had on when I met him, or how grateful he was for a broom. James was used to the finer things. Harry’s grown up more like either of us than his father.”

Severus groaned. “I’m _trying_ , Aurora. It’s bad enough I have to bite down the instinctual reaction to throw up a shield when I see him in the halls, like I’m eleven again and waiting for him and Black to ambush me and put me in the hospital wing for the hundredth time.”

Aurora transfigured the chairs into a sofa and shifted just slightly closer. They hadn’t been friends in Hogwarts, being in different years and Aurora busy fighting for her own place in Slytherin and Hogwarts, but she understood nonetheless. “I’ll see if I can find anything to help distinguish the two magically, after we figure out what Quirrell is hiding.” She considered for a moment. “He used to teach Muggle Studies...what if this has been going on longer than we think?”

"Perhaps you can get Charity to let you in her classroom so you can look?” Severus suggested.

Aurora snorted at that. “And then McCrankykitty will invite me to her office for tea and biscuits and we’ll do each other’s _hair._ ”

Severus shook his head. “What’s your problem with Charity? She’s almost sickeningly nice.”

Aurora scoffed. “Oh, she’s nice enough, but we have philosophical differences. I find the Muggle Studies curriculum entrenched in colonialism and almost zoological rhetoric. What’s the point? It doesn’t teach students about muggle culture in any way that makes them look like we could get along, instead it makes them out like some sort of noble savages, even _charity_ cases. Instead of teaching someone like Molly Weasley how to shop at Tesco and take advantage of the exchange rate, how to dress in muggle public, or navigate public transport, it focuses on the most absurd topics. How the radio was invented or how to do a crossword puzzle isn’t going to help a stranded wizard keep the Statute of Secrecy! The course is literally a joke. Students take it for an easy grade, instead of understanding the dominant culture in this and every other country.”

Severus sensed a real rant coming on, and poured a glass of wine for the dark-skinned witch gesticulating with each word. He slid it into her hand and waited, sure that there was more coming. Aurora had been dealing with people for a long time and for Charity to irritate her this much, there had to be more to the story. All he had to do was sit back and wait.

Aurora took a sip from the glass and sighed. “And when I brought the idea forward of doing a wizarding culture class _again_ this year, she actively stood against it, convincing Dumbledore that such a class would make muggleborns feel inferior, and that it’s wizarding culture that needs to accept us, not that we need to fit into a culture that already exists, and when I _told_ her that unlike _her_ I actually _am_ a muggleborn and the lack of lessons made me feel inferior because there was so much knowledge about how the world worked that wasn’t available in books, she claimed that the only reason I felt that way was because I was a Slytherin, and that I was too close to Death Eaters to know what was good for ‘ _my people_ ’ as if I should have more in common with Irma than with Septima, just because one is a muggleborn and one is a pureblood.” Aurora took a deep drink of the wine. “Needless to say, we don’t get along. She also thinks because I dress like a witch in off hours, that I’m somehow _ashamed_ of my parents. We’re not friends, how does she know what I wear when I’m not out and about?”

Severus snorted. “She should ask me my opinion of my _father_. She might not treat me so kindly.”

“Don’t flirt with her too much when you talk your way into her office.” Aurora said with a smirk.

“I don’t _flirt_ .” Severus said, the word spat out with almost as much vitriol as he did the word _‘father_.’

“I know.” Aurora said with a flamboyant, over the top sigh, practically swooning. “More’s the pity for witch-kind.”

Severus rolled his eyes at her antics. “Like you and Septima gossip about me.”

“Oh no,” Aurora said playfully, getting up and heading to the door. “I’m not allowed to talk about you with Septima, she gets _awfully_ jealous.” Leaving the room with a trilling laugh and playful wave, she headed towards her tower. “Have fun with Charity!”

* * *

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and even Hermione and Daphne had to giggle when the Weasley twins charmed snowballs at Professor Quirrell’s turban, which still bore scorch marks. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. No one could wait for the holidays to start, especially the Slytherins, whose Common Room was in the dungeons, under the frozen lake, and even with warming spells and roaring fires, it was cold enough that there was talk about furred cloaks. In the hallways, their breath rose in a mist before them and Draco, Hermione, Harry and Daphne all took to carrying jars of Hermione’s bluebell flames to keep warm, Astronomy brought welcome warmth in contrast, where Professor Sinistra fed them all tea and hot chocolate as the wind whipped around the tower, blowing cold. Potions, however, was the worst. and they huddled over their cauldrons, shivering.

“I can’t wait to get home.” Daphne said, holding her hands next to her cauldron for warmth. “I’m sorry you can’t come with me, Harry, but Maman’s been planning this trip to Marseilles to see family for ages.”

“It’s fine!” Harry said honestly, even though he knew he was the only Slytherin in his year staying behind. He was glad he wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor Snape had come around the week before, making a list of Slytherin students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. No Dudley trying to strangle him with Christmas ribbon, or throwing disliked presents at his head, no Christmas pudding he was shamed for having the meagerest of pieces. He’d have his dorm to himself, and Agathos to keep him company. He’d take that over the Dursleys any day.

“I wish I could escape the party.” Draco said, making a face. “But at least at home I can look in our library for something on Flamel.” Draco was sure that Flamel had something to do with magical creatures, and Harry knew he had read the name before, but they hadn’t had any luck, and after Hagrid’s reaction, none of them wanted to bring their concerns up to Professor Snape.

The quartet had been looking for answers since Hagrid had let the name slip. Flamel wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ , or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ ; he was missing, too, from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_ , and _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry._ And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows. Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Draco walked down a row of books on magical creatures. Harry and Daphne wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Daphne looked nervously back towards the doors. “Come on, Harry, Slytherins shouldn’t be seen here.”

Harry had about to ask why, after all, they were schoolbooks, even though they couldn’t get _in_ the section, when Madam Pince appeared. “"What are you looking for, boy?"

Daphne swung to the rescue with a smile. “Neville made a mistake in potions the other day, and Professor Snape commented on how he had very nearly made a toxic gas. When we were looking up the interactions, it led us here, we didn’t _realise_ it was the Restricted Section! We just asked the Gryffindors with the Snap cards over by the window….”

Madam Pince let out a squawk, brandishing her feather duster at them. “No students near the Restricted Section without a pass, go on, go!” She said, brandishing her feather duster before disappearing toward the far corner, where Daphne had indicated the errant Snap players to be.

“Thanks, Daph.” Harry said with a sigh of relief as they headed back to their friends. Where they quietly compared notes with heavy hearts. They had been looking for two weeks, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

"We’ll all keep looking over the holidays, right?" asked Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything, I can compile information without anyone getting suspicious." Once they all agreed, everyone headed back to the dorms, so everyone but Harry could pack.

* * *

 Once the holidays started, Harry didn’t think so much about Flamel. He had the entire first year boys’ dormitory to himself, and the common room was far emptier than usual, so he was able to get the good armchair closest to the fire. He sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork -- bread, crumpets, even marshmallows while talking to Agathos and having mimed conversations with the merfolk outside the windows. On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

Surprised and excited, Harry scrambled to the pile. He picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was ‘ _To Harry, from Hagrid_ .’ Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it -- it sounded a bit like an owl. The smallest parcel contained a note. _‘We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.’_ Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece. "That's friendly," Harry muttered, and Agathos hissed in agreement.

“I’m surprised they even sent me a present, but who can all these other gifts be from?” Harry asked, curious, reaching for the next parcel. Opening it, he found a schoolbag, not unlike those carried by Draco, Theodore and most of his schoolmates. It was fine brown leather, with ‘Potter’ inscribed on it, above a crest, with a cauldron diagonal from a bridge on the, with swords on the other two quarters.On a banner underneath was a Latin phrase: ‘ _Novissima Inimica Destruetur Mors_ ’ Inside was a card, and a note from Daphne. ‘ _Happy Christmas, Harry! I hope you like the bag, I ordered it with the Potter family crest, hopefully that wasn’t too presumptuous. Your Friend, Daphne Greengrass.’_ Harry stared at it for a long moment, wondering what the Latin words meant, before finally putting it aside.

The next present was a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione, while Draco had sent him a brand new set of seeker’s gloves, there was also a present from Professor Sinistra, containing a book on “ _Great Wizards and Witches of History: From Alchemy to Zygomancy_ ,” a new container of exotic frog spawn for Agathos, an orange, and a note asking him to join her after dinner for a chat and hot chocolate.

“ _Star-Teacher sends good gifts.”_ Agathos hissed happily, as Harry fed him from the new container of frog spawn. “ _You should bring her a rat._ ”

The next parcel had no note, and he was confused when he opened it to find a picture of a witch in Gryffindor robes, waving at the camera. He blinked at the redheaded witch, who smiled at him. He put it aside, sure that it had been delivered by mistake and deciding to ask Professor Snape about it later, and opened the last parcel. It was very light. He unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. “What is it?” He asked Agathos, leaning down to pick the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

“ _Magic_ .” Hissed Agathos. “ _Great magic_ , _old and yet strong_ ,   _try it on.”_ Agathos encouraged.

Harry found the top and realised it was a cloak, which he promptly whirled around his shoulders.

“ _Look down, Brother Harry, look down._ ” Agathos said, wriggling with excitement. _“Human eyes will not see_.”

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely. He laughed excitedly, only for a note to flutter to the ground. Pulling off the cloak, Harry grabbed it from the floor.

Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words: “ _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you._ ” There was no signature. Harry stared at the note.  He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? He had so many questions, but he had no one to ask. Carefully, he folded the cloak up, and placed it in his trunk, near the bottom, so that no one would see it when he opened the chest. He stuffed the books, candy, flute, and gloves inside, before eating the orange, and gently wrapping the picture back up. He had dawdled long enough. He didn’t want anyone to miss out on one of their gifts, he knew what lackluster Christmases were like.

The last person Severus Snape wanted to see at his door on Christmas was Harry Potter. He grit his teeth and forced all feelings back, keeping his face stoic. “Can I help you, Mr. Potter? I did not foresee any problems in the dungeons on Christmas.”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir.” Harry, said, looking at his feet. “But, uh...I think I got someone else’s present…if I did, I didn’t want anyone accusing me of stealing…” He held up the picture for Professor Snape to see.

Despite himself, Severus’s stoic mask broke, and he sneered despite himself. “What kind of cruel joke is this, Potter?” He had gone to the heart-wrenching bother of duplicating one of his precious photographs for the boy, and he threw it in his face like this?

Harry’s eyes widened as suddenly the Professor Snape that the Gryffindors spoke of was looming over him. “No...nothing sir!” he said, stuttering despite himself. “It’s just I don’t know the girl in the picture to give it to her and I didn’t want to bother Professor McGonagall, and your our Head of House, sir…”

Severus wiped a hand over his face, swallowing, seeing Lily’s eyes wide in fear looking up at him, even if they weren’t Lily’s, hurt. “P…” He couldn’t call the boy Potter, not at this moment, not like this. “ _Harry,_ ” He ground out. “It _is_ for you.”

Harry blinked, and looked from the picture back to Professor Snape in confusion. “How do you know, sir?”

“Because I gave it to you.” Severus snapped.

Somehow, that raised more questions than it did answers. “Thank you, sir.” Harry said, voice confused, and then waited a moment. “But...uh...who is it?”

Severus stared at him for a moment, and then opened the door wider, so he could come inside the office. “You don’t recognise her?”

“No, sir, should I?” Harry asked, stepping inside.

Severus swallowed. “It’s Lily...your mother...her first year, before heading home on the train for Christmas.”

“My mother?” Harry repeated, looking down at the photo again in shock, hands shaking. “I…”

“You’re probably used to photos when she was older.” Severus said dismissively.

“No.” Harry said softly. “I never...Aunt Petunia doesn’t have any...Uncle Vernon always said he’d not have pictures of good-for-nothings clogging up his house.” He stared down at the photo. “I always imagined she looked more like Aunt Petunia.”

Severus could hardly even imagine that world, and shook his head. “No.” He said, finally, deciding maybe he needed to have a _talk_ with Petunia. “She looked like her grandmother. You have her eyes.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, and then looked up at his Head of House. “Thank you, Professor.” He managed, voice choked. “She’s...she’s _real_ now.” He hugged the picture close to his chest. “Thank you.”

Something in Severus snapped with a sharp pain, and he nodded. “You’re welcome, Harry.” he said finally, watching as the boy disappeared down the hallway. The boy might not have had anything of Lily in his actions thus far, but he had finally seen something of her in the boy, and that was something he didn’t know he was waiting to see. He banged his door shut again feeling guilt wash over him again. To hell with Dumbledore and his unreasonably cheery holiday demands, Severus was drinking Firewhiskey until he passed out, feast be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully everyone who has been complaining that Draco turned too nice too quickly can still see he's a classist little shit here. Is he slightly better? Yes. Is he now no longer prejudiced at all? Nope. He's still a little shit who has a lot of things to work through, including blood purity rhetoric. Rome wasn't built in a day. 
> 
> As always, portions taken from the text.


	13. God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's still Christmas, so we get moments with the rest of the gang!

“ _Mon doudou_!” Harmonia de Montmorency-Greengrass enthused, as Reginald brought their daughter home. Ignoring her husband, whom she saw every day, she swept her daughter up in a large hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too, Maman.” Daphne said, returning the hug, before she was jumped on by an infectiously excited nine-year-old Astoria. The three exclaimed over changes to height, clothing and various other things for several minutes while Reginald good-naturedly tried to get a word in edgewise. When Astoria had been escorted off by the governess and her father had given up and gone to his study, Daphne shook her hair out and the two women went to her mother’s solarium, where Daphne’s sewing was waiting for her, as if she had been gone four hours instead of four months. She took her usual seat and picked up her embroidery.

“How are your classes going?” Harmonia asked, curiously. “Are you finding any particular strengths?”

“Charms.” Daphne said after a moment. “And I love Herbology. I wish I was better at Potions. I know what I want to happen, and how things go together, I just can’t...get them...to go together!”

“It will come.” Harmonia reassured her. “You can come to work with me over break and we will see how you do.” She tilted her head slightly. “And friends? Hildegarde told me that Millicent wrote that you were having a boy escort you to breakfast each morning.”

“Harry.” Daphne said, shyly focusing on her crewel. “He’s very nice.”

“You aren’t trying to _fix_ the boy, are you, Daphne?” Harmonia asked, with a raised eyebrow. “He is not an owlet with a broken wing you can heal and turn into your familiar.”

“No!” Daphne protested, and when her mother turned penetrating hazel eyes on her, she squirmed. “Well, I did like to see him smile in the beginning -- he and Hermione always seem so lost...but he _jumped on the back of a mountain troll_ to save me, Maman, and he came to me to ask me to plan a party...I know he doesn’t know what hostessing means, but…”

“What was a _mountain troll_ doing in Hogwarts?” Harmonia asked, horrified.

“Someone set it loose.” Daphne explained. “We think they’re trying to steal something the Headmaster is hiding in the school.”

“I knew we should have talked more seriously about Beauxbatons.” Harmonia grumbled. “Dumbledore is getting too old and losing his touch, if people are letting mountain trolls into the school, and children are keeping other children safe.” Noticing Daphne’s horrified expression, Harmonia patted Daphne’s leg. “Don’t worry, _mon doudou_ , we won’t arrange a transfer. I only want to know that you are safe.”

“I’m safe.” Daphne reassured her mother. “Harry always walks to class with me, and Hermione is a wicked duelist. When Weasley was on about how witches were less powerful than wizards, she took him down in three spells, tongue-tied him about it so he couldn’t tattle, and _then_ corrected his pronunciation.” Daphne laughed at the memory. “Plus, she chose me as her second to defend your honour.”

“My honour is hardly going to be injured by the insults of schoolboys, but it is nice to see.” Harmonia chuckled. “Hermione is the witch you want to buy robes for in Marseilles?”

“Yes.” Daphne said, with a quick nod as she tried to get her thread untangled. Her mother had distracted her and she had not been keeping up with her needlework at Hogwarts. “She’s muggleborn, so she doesn’t have the benefit of a good wardrobe, and she doesn’t understand how her image can help her.”

“Wardrobe can be purchased, and appearance taught.” Harmonia dismissed. “Better that than a witch who cannot hold a thought in her mind, and thinks her robes her strongest suit.”

“Like Pansy.” Daphne said, a bit bitterly. “She’s going to fancy Harry someday, when she realises how strong he can be, as well as being famous.” Pansy and Daphne had been forced into being ‘friends’ all of their lives, being pushed together by parents and told to ‘play nice,’ some of the only pureblood girls of their generation. They had started out as friends, but Pansy treated Daphne like she was inferior, and Daphne hated that, even if she grit her teeth to be polite all too often.

Harmonia raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Do _you_ fancy him?”

Daphne screwed up her face slightly. She knew Pansy, Tracey, and Millicent all _thought_ she did, and Hermione was fairly oblivious. “I like him, he’s fun to spend time with, and I like when he smiles...but it’s not like _le flash_. We’re friends.”

Harmonia nodded. “So why would Pansy fancying him be a problem, if you’re only friends?”

Daphne sighed at her mother. “Because Pansy will only like the fact that he’s famous, rich, and he’ll be a great wizard. Not because he’s _Harry_ , but because he’s _The-Boy-Who-Lived_. Crabbe and Goyle, most of the Hufflepuffs, and some of the Gryffindors are convinced he’s going to be the next Dark Lord. I’m not letting her get her claws into him, she could fool him, and he’s so nice, he’d not realise it until something horrible happened.”

Harmonia hummed thoughtfully. “Well, the present you ordered for him came. What did you want to get Draco?”

“Candy.” Daphne said with a firm nod. “And the rest of the boys too. The girls can have whatever’s coming out in February.”

“As you see fit, Daphne.” Harmonia agreed, tucking all of this information away for later.

* * *

 It felt strange to Hermione, shopping for presents and exploring the festively decorated high street shops of muggle London. She felt out of place, like a puzzle piece that _looked_ right but didn’t quite fit, though some overeager child had smashed it in with an insistent fist.

Priam Granger caught Hermione up on what had been going on with his football leagues and some interesting stories from the dental surgery, but as if it had been arranged beforehand, the entire Granger family waited until they were home in the parlour with hot chocolate and a tree to decorate in the finest Victorian fashion to talk about Hogwarts.

Hermione had launched into an excited and rambling tale about her first few months in the wizarding world, but she was careful not to mention the mountain troll, or Professor Quirrell, though she still found herself talking about Quidditch and explaining some basics to her parents.

Eliza did not look happy. “You aren’t considering trying out, are you dear?”

“Oh no!” Hermione reassured her parents. “I have no interest in playing, it’s bad enough watching Harry play. Quidditch is terribly dangerous. Technically, first years aren’t supposed to play _at all_ , but the Headmaster appointed Harry as the Seeker to Slytherin anyway, because he was so skilled. I was so scared for him!” She huffed a bit. “I know I need to get used to it though, I know Draco’s going to go out for Chaser next year.”

“Are all your friends boys, poppet?” Priam asked with a laugh.

Hermione laughed at that and shook her head. “No, but Daphne’s the only girl in my year willing to go against Pansy and be friends with me.” Hermione explained. “Pansy’s a bit cross with me for ‘stealing Daphne away,’ but Daph says the only reason they were friends to start with is because their parents always made them play together growing up, and since her mum’s like the queen of beauty potions and charms, she’s not intimidated.” Hermione blew on her hot chocolate. “The wizarding world is very focused on hierarchy, and Daphne’s mum outranks Pansy’s...or something. Draco and Professor Sinistra have been trying to teach me, but I’m still learning all the nuances. Draco’s practically wizarding royalty, he’s only a first year, but everyone in Slytherin pays attention to what he says, and Professor Sinistra was the last witch with non-magical parents Sorted into Slytherin. Sometimes I still wonder if I can cram all of it into my head along with my exams, though!” She said in frustration.

“The important thing is your marks, Hermione.” Priam reminded her, somehow managing to pick up on some of the biases against students not part of the hierarchy. “School will be over before you know it and your future is important.”

“If you want to come back to _normal_ school, you could.” Eliza suggested. “Your Aunt Julia is hosting a charity dinner next week, you could talk to your Uncle Sebastian for a recommendation.”

“No!” Hermione gasped, horrified. “Hogwarts is _wonderful._ I finally have _friends,_ the Professors are so involved, and the curricula is _fascinating._ I couldn’t…” She turned to her parents with bare fear on her face. “ _Please_ . _”_

“If it means that much to you, Hermione, of course.” Priam said, giving in. “But if you’re in danger or your grades slip, we’ll revisit this.”

“Oh yes, Dad, of course!” Hermione replied, hugging him in relief. “My grades will be the best!”

* * *

 Draco was seated in the kitchen with his mother as he watched her bake. When he was younger he had absolutely believed Narcissa when she said she needed his help putting the complex spells into the holidays extravagances that surrounded him, either entirely made, or ingredients laid out. Lucius was in his study brooding, as he did whenever his wife baked. Lucius had been horrified to discover Narcissa baking the first time she did it, and it had ended in a cold fight wherein she talked him into a corner, asking him if he thought a _house elf_ could put superior magic into a buche de noel than the daughter of Druella Rosier and Cygnus Black. His trip to his study was now commonplace, as were Draco’s regular treat deliveries.

“So, tell me about school, Draco.” Narcissa said, her wand and attention focused on the batter for the next pudding, lacing it with spells for prosperity and good health.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had been telling his parents about Hogwarts at regular intervals, and yet, his mother especially, always seemed to want to hear more. “Uncle Severus’s class is the best.” He said easily. “And I like the challenge of Transfiguration, though I don’t think Professor…”

“Yes, yes,” Narcissa dismissed, flicking her wand and creating a pudding cloth. “I’ve heard all this, Draco. I want you to tell me about the inner-workings of the school, the politics and what’s gone on. Thus far I’ve only had your father and Severus to hear things from. I want to hear it from _you_.”

Draco swallowed hard. He was accustomed to his father’s displeasure. He often wanted to make him proud, but his habit of rushing or getting overexcited tended to make him lose his head and Lucius’s approval. His mother, on the other hand, was his rock. He knew he could always count on her -- but she was a Black, and if _she_ warned him away from Hermione he didn’t know what he’d do. Uncle Severus didn’t seem to think that would happen, but he knew the story about how his parents had only married because his aunt had run off with a muggleborn and been disowned.

“Slytherin is split.” Draco answered slowly. “More than normal. At first Harry was a problem, there were some who felt he didn’t belong there because of what happened to the Dark Lord, but once he won Quidditch everyone accepted him for the most part.”

“They see value in his presence, Draco, that is not the same thing as acceptance.” Narcissa reminded him. “But it is a good start. However, we both know that’s not what you want to talk about.”

“Hermione.” Draco answered despite himself. “Some of them hate her. She gets hexed quite often, but she doesn’t retaliate. I think she’s keeping a list and waiting for something.”

“If she’s smart, she is.” Narcissa answered, as if they were discussing Lucius’s latest plan to add to the manor.

“Some of them see value in how she racks up points, and grasps everything so easily.” Draco continued. “But they don’t really see how strong she’ll be. She dueled Weasley and had him down quickly, both for her honour and for Harmonia Greengrass’s as well, with Daphne as her second. She takes in everything, and comes up with new ways to use it, like using bluebell flames for warming jars instead of just lighting fires for potions.”

“Well then,” Narcissa said after a moment. “It will be a good thing to keep her close, Draco...but not too close. She and Potter might make a good match, one day.”

Draco resisted the urge to make a face, or to mention that Harry was firmly caught in Daphne’s web of pureblood courtesy. “Yes, Mum.” He said with a smile. “She especially likes your bichon au citrons.”

“Well,” Narcissa said, smiling again. “She obviously has impeccable taste, ancestry aside.”

* * *

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce -- and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. The Prefect Weasley nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner. He was a bit sad that Professor Snape had not been at dinner, but he probably had a family of his own to spend Christmas with, and Harry had bothered him enough.

Harry climbed the many stairs to the Astronomy Tower after he had put his collection of new things into his trunk, excited to tell Aurora all about his Christmas. He knocked once, but the door was already open, with the wireless playing, and Aurora grinned at him, leading him over to some of the squashy stargazing chairs. “Tell me about your Christmas, Harry!”

“It’s been great!” Harry enthused. “Agathos thanks you for the frogspawn, he says I should have brought you a rat, but I didn’t think so.”

“No, the new quills were very nice, Harry thank you.” Aurora said with a smile.

“Well, I remembered when you showed us the things you draw with a quill, so…” Harry shrugged, he hadn’t been at all sure what to buy Aurora, but she had done so much for him he had to get her _something_.

“Did you get any good presents?” Aurora pressed.

“Daphne gave me a bag like most everyone else has. She says it’s my family crest, though I don’t know what the Latin means.”

Aurora smiled as she poured hot chocolate for Harry. “ _Novissima Inimica Destruetur Mors_ \-- The Last Enemy to be Destroyed is Death.” She replied.

Harry blinked at her from behind his glasses. “How did you know?”

Aurora laughed and pushed his cup of hot chocolate to him. “I memorized the mottoes and crests of every pureblood family in Britain by second year.”

Harry frowned, but took a deep drink of his hot chocolate anyway. “Are you going to make Hermione and I do that?”

“Eventually.” Aurora said with a nod. “Probably in third year, when you’re a bit older and romance starts to enter your mind.” She waved it away. “Certainly not today. What else did you get?”

“I got this mysterious present.” Harry said after a moment. “They didn’t sign it, whoever sent it. It’s a cloak, they said it belonged to my father, and told me to use it well. It makes me invisible when I wear it. Agathos says it’s old magic -- do you think it’s the same person who sent Hermione her bracelet?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Aurora said, visibly startled. “Hermione’s present, while thoughtful, is common and easily purchased. An invisibility cloak...they’re very rare, Harry. There would be people who would seek to steal it or destroy it. Only tell people you trust completely that it exists, and only after you’re sure they won’t let it slip. If it did belong to James, I don’t know who would have sent it.”

Harry was surprised, and wondered for a moment if they were so precious who would have sent it to him. He was only eleven after all, and why it hadn’t been in the vault. “Okay. Oh, and Professor Snape gave me a picture of my mother!” he grinned “I think I upset him at first, though. I didn’t think it was my present, because I had never seen a picture of her before, and he got angry...but after I told him, he was okay.”

Despite herself, Aurora felt her jaw unhinge at this revelation that came so naively and struggled to figure out what part to talk about first. “You...never saw a picture of your mother? Not even a baby picture, or a picture from when you were born?”

Harry shook his head, mouth full of biscuit. He swallowed and then added. “Uncle Vernon wouldn’t have anything of them in the house. I don’t think there’s any pictures of me, either. They’re all of Dudley.I didn’t really have anything of mine before Agathos.”

“I see.” Aurora said quietly. Apparently her plans for the summer were going to change. She certainly wasn’t going to let Harry in an environment like that. She had thought that perhaps his guardians lived beyond their means, but this was something else. Aurora had grown up poor, but at least she had been loved. She had baby pictures. She had dolls from car boot sales and well-loved books from when the libraries replaced things. More pressingly, however, she was worried about Severus, he had undoubtedly not thought that he would need to explain his gift and Lily was a wound that never healed. “What else did you get?”

Aurora listened as Harry explained the rest of his gifts and talked about what he had been doing since winter break had started, but after an hour, she set a Christmas hat on his head, pushed biscuits into his hands and walked him back to Slytherin. She had someone else she now had to visit.

* * *

Aurora found exactly what she expected to find upon visiting the Potions’ Master. Sighing, she slid into the bathroom behind him and pulled back his long, greasy hair as he vomited. He started, but she pushed on his shoulder, just slightly. “It’s just me, Severus.”

Severus groaned, and swatted with a free hand at the annoying witch. “Go away.”

“No.” Aurora said simply. “I don’t leave my friends when they need me.” She used her wand to clean him up a bit, and ignored his grumbling. She levitated him against his will, ignoring his remarks about good-for-nothing meddling witches. She knew better. Tobias Snape had been a mean drunk and Severus never imbibed more than a glass socially unless he was in a very bad place.

“You did a good thing for him, Severus.” Aurora said, as she wiped a cool cloth over his face. She was always careful not to call him Sev after he had a ‘Lily episode’. Harry was so happy.”

“Seeing his eyes...her eyes...looking up at me like I was going to hurt him…” Severus slurred. “I never meant to hurt her.”

“I know.” Aurora whispered.

“Go away!” Severus shouted, switching between contrite and angry drunk at a drop of a hat. “I don’t deserve this! Just let me alone! Let me pickle in peace, witch!”

“When Barty was revealed to be a Death Eater, you cleaned me up, bloody and bawling.” Aurora replied. “When Crouch and Moody took me to the Ministry to interrogate me, for _known ties to Death Eaters_ , and I came back to the castle, broken and terrified, you pushed potions down my throat when I refused to see Poppy. You stayed with me through the tremors, Severus. This is nothing.”

She put a hangover potion on his bedside, covered him up, and curled up on his reading chair to wait out Christmas Night while he complained at her, and then hummed while he cried and raged at the universe, letting him know she was there, without invading his space. She would be there as long as he needed it, just like he was for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, portions taken from the text.


	14. When You Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo gives Draco a helping hand, the Quartet discuss the mystery, and Harry shows Draco the Mirror of Erised.

Draco sat glumly on the train, disappointed in himself. He had spent hours searching for the answers to the mystery of Nicholas Flamel, but found nothing. It was ridiculous. He had had the unfettered use of he _Malfoy library_ , which had been added to and grown since the Norman conquest. There was no Restricted Section, no suspicious Madam Pince, and he had still failed in his task. It had _obviously_ been his error and not the of the library, because it was one of the largest collections in Europe. What had he missed? He had checked every forbidden topic he could think of, and his father had congratulated him several times, puffing up with pride to see his son ‘studying proper magic.’ Despite himself, he had drank up the praise, even as all his research bore no fruit.

Now he was returning to Hogwarts, disappointed.  He knew he should have sat with Hermione and Daphne on the train, but he didn’t want to see them get all excited for what he had assured them he could uncover, only to dash their hopes with his failure. Draco hated letting people down. Usually the only people he cared about disappointing were his parents and Severus, but somehow the other three Slytherins had crept into that group as well. He had never worried about disappointing Crabbe or Theodore and they had been friends since their fathers’ had set up playtimes and insisted they ‘make proper connections.’ He wondered why that was.

As if summoned by his rather dismal thoughts, the door to the compartment opened and Theodore Nott entered, looking slightly surprised to see Draco alone. “What are you doing back here? I thought you’d be up with Granger and Greengrass.”

Needing to talk to _someone_ , and with Severus at the castle, Draco broke slightly, even though no one was supposed to know about their project. “I promised Hermione I’d try and find information on Nicholas Flamel in the Malfoy library for her over break, but I couldn’t find his name anywhere.”

“Flamel?” Theodore repeated, with a laugh. “What is she already planning all her courses from now until graduation? Swot. Dumbledore won’t do his seventh year alchemy class, unless there are enough students. It hasn’t run in years.”

Alchemy? Draco’s mind buzzed, but he kept the grin off of his face, shrugging instead, in a way he hoped was nonchalant. “I guess.”

“It’s pointless anyway.” Theodore said with a shrug. “Flamel won’t give up the secret of the Philosopher’s Stone for anything. He and his wife are hidden away somewhere in Devon, and no matter how much money Father has offered, he’s refused him. Father took the alchemy class and found it useless, back when Dumbledore was just a teacher. He still spends a lot of time in his lab trying to crack it.”

Draco’s eyes went up, as he considered Jorum Nott. He was not the sort of man Draco would expect to see in a lab. “Your father’s interested in alchemy?”

“Father is interested in immortality.” Theo disagreed, shaking his head. “According to him, he and his best friend in Hogwarts searched everything to try and find some clue, since old Dumbledore used to work with Flamel, but they never found anything.”

Draco filed this information away. “Thanks, Theo.” He said, honestly. “Why don’t you ever come hang out with us? You’re allowed, you know.”

Theodore shook his head violently. “With Granger there? I couldn’t. If Pansy snitched on me to Father the way she did to yours...I don’t have a godfather for a professor, or your mum to cover me.” He shuddered at the thought. “And you know I’m not comfortable around too many people. Just...make some time to talk and throw around the quaffle or something, okay?”

“Absolutely.” Draco agreed, holding out his hand to his friend, and silently swearing he’d be a better one. “Starting right now.” They settled in and talked about Christmas, chess and Quidditch, in a way they hadn’t really done since school had started.

* * *

 The reunion between the quartet was excitable as they discussed their holidays, curled up in a corner, thanks were given for gifts until everyone but the four first years had retired to their dorms. Draco had been sure to arrange time with Theo to play gobstones in the Common Room later that week, and the quiet boy offered a wave as he headed to the boys’ dormitory.

Harry had just finished telling the three of them about his fantastic holiday at Hogwarts and taken Hermione’s scolding about too many marshmallows with ease, before the conversation turned to Nicholas Flamel.

“Did you get _any_ time to look in the library for who Nicholas Flamel is?” Hermione asked, as Harry finished his tale.

“I did try.” Harry said, for all that he had only tried once, after the novelty of an almost-empty castle had worn off. “But still no luck.”

Hermione sighed, disappointed that the Hogwarts Library, which seemed like a limitless haven of answers, could have failed her so completely. “I was hoping we’d find _something_.” She said with a sigh.

“He’s an alchemist.” Draco piped up. “He created the Philosopher’s Stone, but he won’t give up the secret.”

Hermione’s face lit up, and she hugged Draco sideways. “Draco, you’re brilliant!” She enthused. “I’ll be right back!” She said, rushing into the girl’s dormitory.

Harry got to his feet as well. “Me too!” He said, heading toward the boys’ room.

“Well,” Daphne drawled. “We’ll just sit here then.”

Hermione returned with a large tome from the Hogwarts library, her faith restored in the old archive, while Harry came back a minute later with the book Professor Sinistra had given him for Christmas, the first chapter of which was focused on alchemy.

“ _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._ ” Hermione read to them, clicking the book shut.

Harry, had paged through his as well. “Mine says that Flamel published works for over three hundred years, but eventually left their home in Paris and went under many protections when dark wizards and witches began to seek the elixir or the gold.”

“So that’s what the Cerberus is hiding.” Daphne said thoughtfully. “I should have known that too! I think one of his properties is down the road from my grandmother’s in Paris, but there’s so many old houses and shops, I never really pay attention anymore. Uncle Jean-Andre gets so insistent about how the Rue de Montmorency is _our_ street.”

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Quirrell’s after it! Anyone would want it."

“Especially someone who's as big a coward as he is.” Draco scoffed. “You wouldn’t have to be scared, if you knew you were immortal. Maybe we should give it to him, he might be a better teacher if he wasn’t such a scaredy cat.”

“Maybe...maybe he doesn’t want it for himself.” Hermione said, quietly. “Someone robbed Gringott’s, I don’t think Quirrell could do that...what if someone is threatening him _because_ he’s such a coward, and he works here. What if it’s someone worse after the stone?”

The four Slytherins fell quiet, shivering as if a sudden chill had infested their Common Room. “We have to stop him.” Draco said, quietly. He knew the kinds of wizards that visited his father, and any of them being immortal was terrifying.

“Shouldn’t we tell the teachers?” Hermione asked, nervously. “We’re only first years! I’ve only just finished memorising the Standard Book of Spells.”

“We tried, Hermione.” Harry said. “ _Hagrid_ wouldn’t even believe us. Who would?”

Hermione frowned slightly, biting her lip. She wanted to say Professor Snape would believe her, but she had believed the worst of him, after overhearing something, how could she know that he wouldn’t dismiss her claims as more of the same? “You could talk to Professor Sinistra, and Draco could talk to Professor Snape.”

“Uncle Severus already knows.” Draco surmised, shaking his head. “Remember the night of the troll? He got bit by the Cerberus, he probably went to make sure Quirrell didn’t get past it.”

Hermione blew a breath out by her teeth. “So what _are_ we going to do?”

“Stop him.” Harry said, resolutely. “If Professor Snape is already trying to stop him, we just have to help.”

“What about the other teachers?” Hermione asked.

“They won’t believe a bunch of students over a fellow teacher.” Daphne agreed. “Especially Slytherins.”

“What if the paper knew?” Hermione asked. “Surely it’s a risk to the school!”

“What’ll happen to you and Harry if Hogwarts shuts down?” Draco asked, worriedly. “Daph and I have parents to teach us, or pay for tutors, but you two…”

“We’d be left to the muggle world.” Hermione finished hollowly, thinking about being forced into school with her cousins, and leaving the only friends she had, after finding out that magic was real. If her parents knew that the Headmaster was hiding a magical stone in the school under a vicious three-headed-dog, they’d demand she go to some fancy secondary school, and magic would be forgotten. She swallowed hard and set her shoulders. “So, stopping him it is.”

* * *

 Harry listened to the snores of his dorm-mates for several hours before slipping out of bed, and moving over to his best friend, poking Draco awake with a hiss. “Draco. Come on. Draco I need to show you something!”

Draco woke with a yelp, that was thankfully drowned out by a snoring Crabbe. “What the hell, Harry?!” he demanded, wiping his eyes.

“Come on, I have to show you something I found.” Harry whispered.

“Now?” Draco demanded.

“Yes!” Harry hissed, pulling out the invisibility cloak. “Come on, let’s go.” He whirled the cloak around his shoulders, and Draco’s mouth dropped open.

“Is that an invisibility cloak?” Draco demanded. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was an anonymous Christmas gift.” Harry explained, as Draco got out of bed. “The note said it was my dad’s.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Who had it? Why wasn’t it in your vault?”

Harry shrugged slightly. “I don’t know, but come on, I want to show you something!”

Draco got under the cloak, and they silently made their way through the halls. It was easier to find again than it had been the second night he had gone to the room, and when they were inside with the door closed, he whipped off the cloak and gestured to the mirror. “I was going to the library to try and find something on Flamel when I found this.”

“What is it?” Draco asked, cautiously. He knew that dark artefacts did not always look dangerous.

“It’s a mirror.” Harry admitted. “But it’s magic, when I look into it, I can see my family! Not just my parents, but whole loads of people.” When Harry had first found the mirror, and recognised the redheaded girl from the picture Professor Snape had given him, and the messy-haired man from the picture in the trophy case, he felt as though his heart would explode. He moved back over to the mirror and stood in front of it. “Come see! I want you to meet my mum and dad.”

Draco was unsure, he knew Necromancy and pulling the spirits of the dead to you were some of the darkest of the dark arts, but he was curious. Standing beside harry though, the mirror appeared empty. “I can’t see anything.”

Harry turned his head, surprised and a little deflated. “Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them...."

Draco shook his head. “I can only see you, Harry.”

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am." Harry stepped aside, but with Draco in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Draco in his flannel pyjamas.

Draco’s face though, had gone slack in surprise, and it gave Harry hope. “Can you see all your family standing around you?"

“Yeah.” Draco breathed, in disbelief. He stared at the image in the mirror, the reflected Lucius with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, smiling the smug smile he always had when he was particularly proud of something he had done. Narcissa was beaming at him, leaning down to kiss his cheek at intervals. His grandparents were standing there in all their stately glory, looking as proud as his father’s peacocks. “But...so are you.” And it was true, surrounding him in the reflection of the mirror wasn’t just his family. Harry was there, along with Daphne, Hermione, Theo, Crabbe on either side of him, waving enthusiastically, while Severus stood behind him, between his parents, a hand on his head.

“Really?” Harry said, slipping behind Draco to try and see the image his friend could see in the mirror with no luck. “You weren’t in mine. Let me have another look --"

Draco frowned. The longer he looked a the image, the more false it seemed, but at the same time, he didn’t want to give it up. “Just a few more minutes.” After what felt like only a few seconds he gave it back to Harry, but he almost resented it. He wanted to pretend for a few moments longer that it was true.

* * *

 The next night, Harry snuck out alone, not wanting to share the time with Draco. He wanted as much time with his family as he could get. Draco had just been home to his Manor for the entire holiday. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone. And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror.

There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.

Except --

"So -- back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him. " -- I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling. "So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir." Harry admitted, but glad for a name to put to the amazing mirror.

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It -- well -- it shows us our families --"

“Ah yes,” Dumbledore said, stroking his long white beard. “But that’s not all Mr. Malfoy saw, was it?”

"How did you know --?" Harry asked, nervously, imagining a dozen points being taken off for being out after curfew, and hearing Hermione harangue him about how hard she worked for those points in classes.

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Draco Malfoy, an only child who fears his ability to live up to his parents’ expectations, sees his family proud of him and surrounded by friends.  However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.

Dumbledore looked down at him with a sigh. "The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood. “Sir -- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?" Harry asked.

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." Harry stared. "One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

As he walked back to the Slytherin dungeons, it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. He knew what Harry and Draco had both seen, so why would he hide it? Then again, maybe he really did long for socks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, portions taken from the text. Extra information on Flamel taken from history.


	15. I Need A Dollar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione thinks about her C.V.  
> Draco and Harry have a disagreement  
> Aurora drags Severus out for a secret mission.

Quidditch was approaching again, and even though they weren't playing, nerves were still present in the dungeon. Slytherin had been unbeatable in Quidditch for seven seasons, and everyone felt the pressure to keep a firm grasp on the title. If Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff, the two teams would be almost even.

"Honestly." Hermione muttered to Daphne in the Common Room as Draco had managed to pull Theodore Nott into an actual conversation with Harry and Marcus Flint as they discussed what kinds of strategy would be played by each team, and what Slytherin could do if one team or the other won. "They do realise we're not playing, right?"

Morag, who despite her Ravenclaw colours, had been becoming a more and more common sight in the Common Room as Marcus got more and more stressed, laughed at this. "Wait until the end of the year." The redhead predicted. "Quidditch matters after Hogwarts, and how well you did could change your job prospects. When grades are about equal, Quidditch can bump you up further - they can claim it shows good teamwork or leadership skills, or ability to improvise."

Hermione took this in, considering. She hadn't really thought about her C.V. in the magical world. "There really aren't that many extracurriculars, are there?"

"A few." Daphne put in. "But none that are so broadly considered as Quidditch. Charms' Club might help you get an apprenticeship or an entry in a place like Mum's company, or even a Ministry department or two, but it's limited."

Hermione sighed. She knew she had no interest in ever playing, but with that reasoning, she felt it was a little less pointless. "So we're cheering for Hufflepuff?"

"Naturally." Daphne said, smiling as she dotted her essay with conviction.

* * *

 Gryffindor won the game, but for once, Harry really wasn't thinking about quidditch. He was angry, but he had never been any  _good_  at being angry, so he did what he had always had to, he headed off by himself to shove everything he was feeling as deep as it could go. It was easier said than done this time. He had let his few barriers down since leaving Privet Drive. He had found a real home at Hogwarts, adults who cared about him, even seemingly, the old Headmaster, and friends.

It was the last one that was so problematic today. He had really been looking forward to the game. He had even given up sitting with the Quidditch team to sit with his friends, and then...Draco. Draco was his first friend his own age, probably his  _best_  friend, as the two had stayed up talking about quidditch and magic long into the night more than once, or he fact that Draco had given that mean little sneer that Harry swore came from Snape whenever someone in Slytherin tried to make a comment about Harry or his mother. Harry could still clearly remember Draco telling him that  _he_  was in the Mirror of Erised, along with Draco and his  _meant_ something to Harry, who had never really had friends before this.

But at the quidditch match today, Draco had seemed a little too much like Dudley, riling Weasley up for no reason, and the things he said, without Weasley starting it. The things he said stung Harry like they had been directed at him. He didn't want to become Piers Polkiss, holding people back for Draco to punch.

"Harry!" Draco called. "Hey, Harry, wait a minute!"

Harry sighed, taking a deep breath, and turning to look at Draco, who looked perplexed. "What, Draco?"

"Why'd you disappear?" Draco demanded. "I turned around and it was like you apparated away."

"You started in on Weasley." Harry said with a shrug. "He didn't even say anything to us."

Draco was startled by that. "Come on, Harry, you know what he's said about us."

"But he didn't say anything  _today."_  Harry stressed. "And you didn't have a go about him being a git."

"What's it matter?" Draco asked with a careless shrug.

Harry glared at Draco. "Do you know how often Dudley and his gang made fun of me for having to wear his cast-offs?" He blinked away angry tears. "How often Marge or Vernon talked about how taking me in was  _charity_ , and I was nothing more than a poor orphan?"

Draco stared at his best friend with wide eyes. "I…" He had heard Harry talk about Dudley before, they had fantasised about jinxes he could use on his cousin, but he had never thought this would bother him so much. "Okay. Okay. I'll leave off about him being poor." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But if he starts in on us, I'm still jinxing him."

"I'm not saying we have to be  _friends_  with him." Harry said, shaking his head and looking annoyed at the idea. "Just...don't pick at that."

"I'll try." Draco said, sullenly. "But he's still a no-good weasel." He looked down at the ground, muttering quietly, so quietly that Harry couldn't make out the words, before looking up again. "Come on, everyone else is going to be at dinner."

Harry was about to answer in the affirmative when he caught sight of a familiar prowling walk approaching the forest. "He quickly pulled Draco behind the tree he had been sulking by. "Why isn't Professor Snape at dinner?"

Draco watched the familiar stride of his godfather disappear into the forest. "I don't know."

"Come on, let's go see." Harry whispered, starting to follow as quietly as he could.

"Harry!" Draco hissed. "This is the Forbidden Forest! It's forbidden for a reason! There are  _werewolves_ in here!"

Harry ignored him, still a little sore, but could hear his friend following close behind him. Harry was good at being silent, too many punishments from Privet Drive had urged him to be unheard, and the need to sometimes raid the pantry when he had not been fed.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He guessed, moving silently until he heard voices, stopping behind a towering beech tree, in the shadowy clearing up ahead, stood Professor Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I -" "You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you…

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly, and Harry jumped, nearly knocking over Draco. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, "- your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't -"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie." He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing.

It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

Harry turned to look at Draco, who seemed even paler in dark. All thoughts of theor disagreement and Ron Weasley had disappeared, the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone had just gotten a little stranger.

* * *

 Severus blinked when, on a Saturday morning, long before three o'clock, he found Aurora sitting in his chambers, wearing a fine muggle dress, her hair released from the usual braids, relaxed to fall around her shoulders in long waves, even wearing ridiculous high heels.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, curiously.

"Go dress in your muggle best, Severus." Aurora suggested, gesturing slightly. "We're going out." She made a small gesture, telling him that she didn't want to speak in case a dotty, candy-crunching-headmaster was listening.

Sighing, but knowing this likely had to do with  _something_  serious, he turned around, re-entering the room a few minutes later in his best suit. It had been years since he had worn it, and the cuffs were a little shorter than he liked, but it was, indeed, his 'muggle best.'

"Buttons." Aurora murmured with a shake of her head. "Come, let's go." She offered him a two-handled cup the castle had provided to her, and after a moment he took hold of the portkey and they were off.

"Where, exactly,  _are we_?" Snape drawled, as they reappeared in a rather well-manicured garden.

"My mum's back garden." Aurora said, waving away the question. "I know the wards here, no one would see us arrive, and I rather thought you'd prefer portkey to surprise side-along."

"Your generosity knows no bounds." Severus replied, dryly. "Why are we in your parents' back garden?"

"We're going house shopping." Aurora said with a dismissive wave. "Come now, we've quite a few properties to see today."

Severus Snape felt rather like he had portkeyed into another world. " _Why_  are we going house shopping?"

"Really, Severus." Aurora tutted. "We can't let Harry go back to those...those  _people._ " She sneered the final word, as if in doubt it applied to the Dursleys. "But if the old man is going to be fooled, he'll have to be near enough. So we're starting here, in my parent's neighbourhood. They'd love a few children to spoil."

"A few?" Severus repeated, eyebrow crawling higher as they left the garden and began walking to whatever destination she had arranged.

"I was thinking to inviting Hermione to spend some of it with us." Aurora admitted, "and eventually, the other two would follow, even if only during the day, or short visits."

Severus watched the witch as they walked. "Are you... _nesting_...Aurora?" He spoke the word as others might have said 'dragon dung,' or 'flobberworm mucus.'

"I'm a spinster, Severus, this is the closest to  _nesting_  as I'll ever get." Aurora said dismissively.

"So why bring me along?" Severus asked. "Why not Septima?"

"Because I don't want the estate agent to think he can pull one over on me because I'm a single woman." Aurora explained, waving a hand. "Not to mention, we're sure to get the best deal between your  _intimidating manner_  and my charm,  _and_  if we're going to be hiding the Boy-Who-Lived, we'll need fantastic wards. While I'm passable, you're brilliant."

"You can stop the flattery." Severus said with a snort. "Let's go buy a house."

The idea was easier said than done. Aurora was picky, wanting a  _nice_ house, demanding one with at least three bedrooms, ('one for the boys, one for the girls, and one for the adults.") that could be reasonably expanded by magic, and hidden if necessary - all while staying somewhat close to Privet Drive and her parents' house. By the end of the day, Severus was considering some rather painful hexes, but Aurora had made an offer on a house in Staines. It wasn't as close to her parents' as she would have liked, but it was apparently the 'best option.'

Apparently warding it would be his weekend project, in between making sure Lily's son didn't kill himself and figuring out what Quirrell was doing and for whom. Life was never easy, but it had never been quite this strange before, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognisable bits come from canon, with all respect to JKR.


	16. I See Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Daphne get the boys to study.  
> Hagrid has a dragon egg.  
> Pansy causes problems.  
> Aurora and Septima have a sleepover.  
> Daphne comes up with a plan.

After spying on Quirrell and Snape following the quidditch game, Harry and Draco began to watch him even more, trying to decide why he was after the stone: for himself or someone else?  In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, and Harry suggested he was the victim of some terrible wasting disease, while Draco was of the opinion that he had been the victim of a curse and the caster would only reverse it if Quirrell brought him the stone.

They whispered about it in classes, until Hermione poked them both. She had more on her mind than the Philosopher’s Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and colorcoding all her notes -- she knew if her grades faltered in the slightest her parents would pull her out of Hogwarts faster than Pansy Parkinson could turn up her nose. She hadn’t shared this with anyone, afraid of their reactions, of the reminder that her parents just didn’t understand. Harry probably would have understood, but admitting it, putting voice to the possibility made it seem all the more real. Instead, she threw herself into her revision.

Luckily, she wasn’t alone in this, as Daphne often spent time with her in the library, trying to get her grades higher.The girls began proofreading one another’s papers, and discussing the nature of magic and knowledge. Sometimes others would join them, always Ravenclaws, but that never stopped Hermione from inviting Neville whenever he was in the library. Harry and Draco rarely joined them, either, but no-one could say she never invited them. They were just too focused on other things.

That changed, over the Easter hols, when the teachers piled on the assignments like they were going out of style. Soon, Draco and Harry had joined them at the table, trying to get through their extra work, and seeing the amount of work the three girls were doing, seemed to kick Draco up a gear. He still wanted to make his family proud. He had been getting good grades all through the year, but he knew what his father would think if his class rank wasn’t good enough. One bright day, while writing an essay for Transfiguration, Draco looked up to see an unusual sight in the library, and he elbowed Harry silently.

Harry looked up from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, his eyes went wide at the sight of Hagrid in the library, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat. “Hey Hagrid! What are you doing in here?”

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked at the stacks of books Hermione had assembled on the table, for other resources. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

“We figured that out over Christmas.” Draco drawled

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy --"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

“It’s hidden in the _school_ , Hagrid.” Hermione pointed out. “What if Fluffy hurts someone?”

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh --but if it makes yeh feel better…”

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

Draco, reminded of the mystery, stood up. "I'm going to see what section he was in," He returned a few minutes later, looking ecstatic. “"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! They can’t bring a dragon to Hogwarts can they?”

“Aren’t there wild dragons in Britain?” Harry asked.

“The Welsh Green and the Hebridean Black.” Draco admitted. “But reserves are very closely guarded. Poachers are a problem, for everything from blood and heartstring to claws.”

“Not to mention the trouble when muggles find out.” Daphne admitted. “The Ministry has to hush it up and send in the obliviators if one is spotted.”

Hermione, Harry, Daphne and Draco all shared a look. What _was_ Hagrid up to?

* * *

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused. Draco in particular looked disgusted until Hermione prodded him in the side while Hagrid was distracted with Harry.

"So -- yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

"O' course I cant, he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It Was almost stolen outta Gringotts - I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you." Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words, and the three Slytherins looked at Hermione in surprise, and Daphne wiped away a false tear of pride.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout -- Professor Flitwick -- Professor McGonagall --" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell -- an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Quirrell?"

"Yeah -- yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Quirrell helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knew his friends were thinking the same as he was. If Quirrell had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything -- except, it seemed, he had tipped off their Head of House and hadn’t yet figured out how to get past the cerberus.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid.

Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too. "Hagrid -- what's that?" But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."

“A dragon egg.” Draco said in awe, his usual standoffish attitude towards the half-giant, his hut, and everything inside it, disintegrating. Draco had loved dragons as long as he could remember. His mother claimed even longer, as it was when she was reading a book on dragons that he had kicked for the very first time. It was how he had gotten his name. Lucius had wanted to name him Brutus, after a Malfoy ancestor, but Narcissa had put her foot down, saying she would not have her son being known as a brute -- and then claimed that he had chosen it. “It’s not even dinged. It must have cost a fortune. I once offered my father my allowance for a year, if he would buy me one.”

“Where on Earth did you get it?” Daphne asked, pouring more tea for the distracted man, who was beaming like a proud papa.

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin' , said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library -- Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit -- it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here -- how ter recognize diff'rent eggs -- what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_ ," she said. But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

In the end, Daphne, Harry and Hermione had to pull Draco away from the fascinating dragon egg. It wasn’t the last time, either. For the first time, Draco was going down to the hut by himself. For several days, any time he was missing, they could find him at the hut, where he and Hagrid had built a little bed of rocks, and Draco had lined with his extra galleons.

Harry was almost surprised, therefore, when an owl brought him, and not Draco, a note from Hagrid at breakfast one day. It was a simple note that just said _‘It’s hatching.’_

Draco was ready to stand up right away and head down to see the dragon, but the two witches corralled him, even as he complained, while the girls pushed him towards the stairs instead of the door.

“Hermione, it’s hatching!” Draco whinged. “I tried to buy a vacation at a reserve to see this! Do you know how _hard_ it is to see a real dragon, let alone _hatching_?”

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing --"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Pansy was only a few feet away and she had stopped dead to listen. How much had she heard? Harry didn't like the look on her face at all.

Draco and Hermione had bartered all the way to class and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other three at break, in exchange for Draco getting her three tomes not available in the Hogwarts library to read from the Malfoy library, and a recommendation on a primer for wizarding law from his mother. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the quartet of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest.

* * *

Aurora sighed as she leaned back in the plush, comfy chairs in Septima Vector’s quarters. She kicked off her heels, and melted slightly. “We need to do this more often.” She told her best friend.

Septima laughed, and poured the other witch a glass of wine. “We used to, but you apparently filled your nights off with wizarding culture classes for the muggle-raised and muggleborn of Slytherin. If you’re continuing next year, I may sneak a few of the Ravenclaw muggleborns into it.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Aurora admitted. “I’d take the class on as an elective if I could.” She took a sip of wine as Septima turned on the wireless. “Did old Binns and his goblin rebellions convince another one that Flitwick wanted to eat them?”

“That’s old hat.” Septima dismissed, as she changed into her nightgown and tossed Aurora the one Aurora kept in her wardrobe for their sleepovers. “It happens at least once a year. No. it’s actually Una’s daughter, she’s set one of the muggleborns off to worry.”

“Which one?” Aurora asked, curious as she caught the garment, and began to change as well. “Three of her girls are here now, and isn’t there a fourth?”

“Morag,” Septima revealed. “And yes, there’s a fourth, but I doubt she’ll be at Hogwarts, Una demanded an heir of her body for the MacFustys as well. The last daughter will likely be home-schooled with the rest of that clan, while the MacDougals are here.”

“A firstie?” Aurora asked with an eyeroll, pawing through Septima’s silk scarves to find one she liked. “What’s she done, spoken Gàidhlig in the common room and convinced everyone she was going to eat them?”

“Not that one!” Septima protested, pulling a scarf out of Aurora’s hand. “I got that in China. It cost more than your bloody tapestries.” She carefully put the scarf away in her bedside drawer, jealously looking over her shoulder.

“Crazy bint.” Aurora teased and held up another. “Any objections about this one?”

“Sometimes I swear we’re only friends because you love my scarf collection.” Septima said with an eyeroll. “That one is fine.” She took a drink of her wine as she washed her face at the bowl in her dresser before answering the question. “Apparently, she’s been running around in Flint’s Quidditch jumpers, claiming to be his girlfriend, and cheering for _Slytherin._ ”

“Horrors. Do they have a contract? Childhood betrothals are old-fashioned even for Murdoch and the MacDougals.” Aurora noted. “And you’re awfully good at cuddling, too. I keep you around for that as well.”

“I doubt it.” Septima said, shaking her head. “Katrina and Isobel are both older and neither of them are engaged. While Una and Marsali Comyn are best friends, you know Marsali married Constantine against her parents’ wishes. I doubt she’d ever contract Marcus.”

Aurora snorted. “Her parents were against it because Constantine Flint is an arsehole of the highest calibre.”

“He’s a prince to Marsali though. Everyone else can bugger off, but Marsali set the moon.” Septima admitted. “Either way, there’s been some worry, because Morag is only twelve.”

“Hmmm.” Aurora hummed, as she worked potions through her hair. “Have you talked to her sisters?”

“Of course. They were sure nothing’s gone on, just that the two are best friends. According to Katrina, Marcus and Marsali always visit Gylen and he’s dreadfully boring.”

“So it’s a twelve-year-old girl with a crush on her best friend.” Aurora summed up, wrapping her hair up in the gaily printed scarf, covered in birds. “I’ll keep a closer eye on Marcus, but I’m fairly certain half his aggression on the pitch in Gryffindor games is the fact that he fancies the Spinnet girl.”

“Never going to happen, the poor lad.” Septima said with a bark of a laugh, as she stretched out the wrong way round on her bed with a book. “Caught her snogging a Hufflepuff girl under the stands after the last game.”

Aurora laughed, settling herself on the other side of the bed with her marking. “Better than Ravenclaw cooties, I assume.”

Septima kicked Aurora in the shin. “Keep that up, you slimy snake, and you can go cuddle with Pomona instead.”

“ _Nooo!_ ” Aurora protested. “She always smells like plants, and never flowers, just...plants.” She pouted. “I’d have to go back to my tower with no one to cuddle with.”

“Or you could go down to the dungeons and snuggle with Snape.” Septima scoffed.

Aurora smacked her with a pillow. “You know Severus would never cuddle with me.”

More fool him.” Septima said, before sticking her tongue out at her. “Or maybe smart, given how you kick.”

“Shut up, I’m an angel.” Aurora replied, settling back in with her marking.

* * *

 The week following the hatching of the baby dragon, the quartet were terribly nervous. They all knew Pansy had seen something. “She’s only going to hold onto the information so long.” Daphne hissed at the other three. “Once she figures out the best way to use it, it’ll be over.”

“Maybe I can talk her out of it.” Draco suggested, one afternoon as they walked down to the hut.

“You willing to give up Hermione and Harry over it?” Daphne challenged. “You know that’s what she’ll ask.”

Draco, who had bonded with the dragon second only to Hagrid, had his jaw tick, but then shook his head. ”No…”

The four of them spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Parkinson could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I -- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Daphne threw up her hands. “This is ridiculous!” She said, shaking her head. “We need Morag.”

“What?” Harry asked, looking at Daphne. “Marcus’s Morag? _Why_?”

“Because her mother’s a MacFusty.” Daphne said easily.

“Um.” Harry replied.

“The MacFustys run the oldest dragon reserve in Britain.” Draco observed. “They care for the Hebridean Blacks.”

“They have to breed other lines in too, just to prevent inbreeding.” Daphne admitted. “But Morag could easily report seeing dragon smoke in the Forbidden Forest to her mother. They’d trust her to know the difference. The MacFustys would raid it, adopt Norbert, and give him a good home. Hagrid wouldn’t have to get in trouble -- and the MacFustys would only alert the Ministry afterward, because it was reported directly to them.”

“But there are things in the forest that could hurt him!” Draco protested. “There are werewolves in there!”

“Which is why Hagrid would slip him in his little cave and we levitate him in only right before the raiding party arrives.” Hermione suggested. “If we can get Morag on side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognisable text from canon.


	17. Dragon Grooving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quartet approaches Morag.  
> Morag's mother talks with Dumbledore  
> Aurora and Severus discuss Hagrid.

Finding Morag proved to be surprisingly difficult when everyone was so focused on their studies. Apparently she had hurled a shoe at one of her roommates when they moved her coloured inks and no one in Ravenclaw had seen her since. Of course, most of the Ravenclaw first years were wavering between abject horror and overconfidence thanks to the increase in homework. Neither of her older sisters, Katrina or Isobel were any help. They insisted she was around somewhere and suggested she was probably hiding in a corner somewhere. It was Daphne and Harry who found her, almost accidentally, passing through the charms corridor.

Okay, technically it was Daphne, but Harry was there too. He was just distracted with everything going on -- dragons, alchemy, three-headed dogs, mysterious invisibility cloaks, and a school were most of the subjects he had never even heard of before, it was distracting! Or at least that’s what he told himself when Daphne nearly wrenched his arm out of his socket, quickening her pace.

“ _...chail mi an kitbag agam_.”

“Morag!” The blonde called, shifting over to catch hold of the Ravenclaw’s robes. “Hey, we need to talk to you about something.” Daphne blushed even as she spoke, knowing all of it was terribly rude, but thanks to the schedule that put them with the Gryffindors all too often and the tiny redhead’s disappearing tendencies as of late, the chances of finding her again were slim.

Morag moved like she was about to smack whoever grabbed her, but then seemed to realise who it was and stopped the movement halfway. “Sure.” She said with a smile, waving off the Hufflepuff she had been talking to. “What’s up?”

“Not here.” Daphne said, lowering her voice slightly. “Skip lunch and meet us by the pitch, okay?”

Morag frowned slightly, considering this. “What do I get out of it?”

Harry grinned. “We’ll get Hermione to check your grammar on your Potions papers for next week if it isn’t worth your while.”

Morag considered this, and then raised the ante. “And Transfiguration. Old McCrankykitty is worse than Da when I flub up the order of the words.”

“Deal.” Daphne agreed, privately wondering if the deputy headmistress had heard Morag’s nickname for her, or was just harder on Ravenclaws in general.

“See you then.” Morag replied cheerily.

* * *

 “I can’t believe you just...offered me up like that!” Hermione ranted at Harry and Daphne as the quartet walked towards the pitch.

“Morag’s our friend.” Daphne pointed out. “If she had asked for your help, would you have said no?”

Hermione’s cheeks pinkened. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not _mean._ ”

“She never would have asked.” Harry pointed out. “Do you _want_ her to get marked down because she speaks too many languages?”

“No, of course not!” Hermione said, horrified. “She works _so_ hard.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Daphne prodded. “It’s not like we’re talking about _Weasley_.”

Hermione shuddered at the very _idea_ of having to read through one of Ronald Weasley’s papers. Morag was frighteningly intelligent and did her own work. They worked surprisingly well together when they started bouncing ideas off of each other. “I guess there isn’t one.”

“There she is.” Draco said, sullenly, breaking his silence on the walk from the castle. It was clear to everyone that he was dreading this meeting.They all knew how he felt about the not-so-little dragon. The annoyed sulk had been going on for days, and there had been a surprising number of students hit with jelly legs and body binds from quarters unknown...or unreported, at least.

Morag was indeed there, bouncing a quaffle on her arms, and grinning. “So, what’s this about?”

“We found a baby dragon in the forest.” Harry admitted, flushing red. “We weren’t supposed to be in the forest, but…”

“Professor Snape was talking about the ingredients he gathers from the forest, and I wanted to see if I could figure out why they grow better there than in Professor Sprout’s greenhouses.” Hermione lied, flushing slightly, and hoping she wasn’t completely pants at lying _again_.

“Uh huh.” Morag said suspiciously.

“It’s a Norwegian Ridgeback.” Draco said sullenly. “And _they_ insisted we had to tell you. I don’t see why. There’s all sorts of things in the forest. A dragon is way better than _werewolves_.”

“We can’t keep sneaking it chickens, Draco!” Daphne hissed.

Morag blinked at them. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

Hermione smiled wanly. “Draco’s rather attached, we all are.”

Morag frowned. “Okay, but you’ll have to show me first, before I write Aunt Alyth.”

“That’s why we met here.” Harry assured her. “Come on.”

* * *

 Despite herself, Hermione found the Forbidden Forest disconcerting, and not just because they knew they shouldn’t be there, though that was part of it. If they were caught wandering around the forest, the forest that they had been warned off of on the very first night, they could get in serious trouble. If her parents found out she’d turned into some kind of...of rule-breaking hooligan, they’d pull her from Hogwarts faster than a switching spell. No, the forest was also just distinctly creepy on its own, and despite herself, she pressed closer to Draco and Harry on either side as they moved through the underbrush.

Morag seemed unbothered, or at least, too focused on the dragon to think of anything else, while Daphne and Draco seemed to share her unease. Harry, it seemed, didn’t seem to be affected by the...atmosphere of the forest. It took longer than Hermione remembered, but soon enough they had reached the rock formation where they had placed Norbert’s cave.

“You were telling the truth.” Morag said, softly, as a curious Norbert stuck his head out, smoke curling from his nostrils. “Hello, wee one.” She said softly, making an odd sort of clicking noise in the back of her throat. She dug in the pocket of her robes for a moment, before coming up with a piece of venison jerky. Breaking it in half, she laid it on the stones in front of the cave, but not close enough to seem a threat.

“Can you talk to someone?” Daphne prodded. “He’s not really safe here.”

“I’ll write Aunt Alyth, as soon as we’re back to the castle.” Morag promised. “She’ll see the hatchling gets a good home, probably in her rookery.”

“Make sure he gets to keep his coins.” Draco said, with one of those spoiled little sniffs, that if Hermione wasn’t so unsettled, probably would have had her elbowing him. “They’re _his_.”

Morag frowned, but nodded slowly. “As long as it’s safe.” She agreed. “And if not, I’ll make sure Aunt Alyth saves them back until he can safely hoard.”

“Okay then.” Draco said, firmly, holding his hand out to her. “I’m trusting you, MacDougal.”

Morag shook it. “I’ll do my best, Malfoy.”

* * *

 Albus Dumbledore was taken off-guard when the head of the MacFusty Dragon Reserve appeared in his office, with three dragon-tamers behind him. “Hello, Headmaster.” The broad-chested, dark-haired man, said with a nod. “I am Fergus MacFusty, and we are here to investigate a report of dragon smoke seen emanating from the Dark Forest.”

Albus raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that this is unnecessary, Mr. MacFusty, just some school child prank or flight of fancy.” He did _not_ want angry dragonologists bringing Hagrid before the Ministry. He had known, of course, of the half-giant’s new acquisition, and had been planning to do something about it soon. Hagrid had apparently “freed” the creature in the forest sooner than he had expected. Hagrid, however, _needed_ Hogwarts. He had no way to get a job in the magical world, and as a half-giant, no options in the muggle one. Albus knew he was innocent of the crime that had made Dippet expel him, but he could never prove it. In some ways, Hagrid reminded Albus of Ariana, a victim  of others who was unable to fend for himself. He cared for him, provided him employment as best he could, perhaps in some sort of penance.

“Be that as it may,” Fergus said firmly. “Here is our license to search anywhere within Scotland and Northern England in order to investigate reported dragon activity. You will note that it is sealed and noted by the Ministry. If you have any issues with it, please feel free to contact the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau while we conduct our search.”

“Now, Mr. MacFusty, this is _highly_ unusual, and will no doubt upset the students…”

“Headmaster,” Una MacDougal said, crisply. “I’m _quite_ sure that a rampaging dragon would be more upsetting to the students than a few dragonologists. As a parent of three of those students, if you continue to try and delay this, I will approach the board, saying that you are knowingly putting children at risk.” She narrowed her eyes. “Considering the issue at Samhain, I don’t think anyone would argue.”

“Madam MacDougal, I promise you all safeguards are being taken to protect the students.” Albus said, in his best and most reassuring voice, soft and calm.

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind walking me through just how a troll got into the school, while the others search, Headmaster.” Una said, making herself comfortable in the chair.

Albus frowned, he needed to go with them, to conceal any evidence that might implicate Hagrid, or the school. “Madam MacDougal, I would be glad to make an appointment with you to go over the occurrence on Hallowe’en, but if the dragonologists are going to be searching for a rogue dragon, I really must accompany them.”

“No, sir, you must not.” Fergus cut in, firmly. “You are not licensed or even cleared by the Ministry to attend a dragon search. You and your students will stay inside the school, as per the law. When we clear the Dark Forest, the quarantine will end.”

Una MacDougal smirked, and waved a hand, pushing out Albus’s chair. “So, Headmaster, let’s talk.”

Albus sighed deeply. He understood Una’s concerns. He had had more than one owl from parents when the reports of the troll disrupting the Hallowe’en Feast had reached home. It was something that still bothered him. He knew Voldemort had to be behind it, and that was a danger in and of itself, but Harry needed to grow and be tested, especially with his place in Slytherin. He had to see that the dark, and the Dark Lord, brought nothing but destruction, but more than that, Albus had to be sure. He had to be sure that Tom...that the night when his parents’ died had not corrupted him.

It was for the greater good.

* * *

 Aurora woke to the banging of Septima on her door. She knew it was Septima, because the witch always knocked in the pattern of the Wireless news jingle. She groaned, and forced herself out of bed, unwarding the door. “What, Tima?”

“Get up, you’re missing it!” Septima demanded. “The entire school is quarantined in the building. There’s a team of dragonologists searching the forest and grounds, apparently someone reported dragon smoke.” Not completely unkind, she put an oversized mug of tea into the other witch’s hand.

Aurora groaned, and took a long drink from the mug. “Does Albus have a dragon hiding somewhere now?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Septima said gleefully. “Look, keep an eye on while I’m in class, will you? I don’t want to miss anything!”

That was how a sleepy Aurora found herself standing at a window, watching as several dragon handlers carried out an almost-fledged Norwegian Ridgeback. “Now that,” she said, seemingly speaking to no-one, but in reality, talking to the castle. “I was not expecting.”

Deciding it was best to stay awake, Aurora stifled a yawn and moved towards the dungeon. She entered Severus’s office without fanfare and dropped into the chair. “Fledgling dragon in the Dark Forest. Quarantine should be lifted soon.”

Severus scoffed. “Hagrid, no doubt. He sees no problem with raising a cerberus on school property, or loaning it to the Headmaster, when surrounded by children, why would he think a dragon to be problematic?”

“He lives in a wooden house.” Aurora said, deadpan.

“What part of that suggested he was _intelligent_ to you, Aurora?”


	18. St. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets angry at Ron and Morag wards off faeries. Severus and Harry have a talk. Aurora and Severus search for clues. Hagrid can't keep his mouth shut, and the race for the Stone enters the final turns.

Harry was frustrated. He  _ hated _ Gryffindor. Half of them were terrified of him, and the other half were convinced he was evil. Ron Weasley was their unofficial leader in their ‘Hate on Harry,’ club. This week was another variation on the ever-popular ‘Harry is a fake.’ He was currently out on the green, regaling assembled students with the new theory that Harry was a changeling baby, that the faeries had stolen the  _ real  _ Harry Potter away. It didn’t help that Harry himself often felt like an imposter, that Aurora, Hagrid, Dumbledore, and all the rest  had made a mistake and he  _ was _ really just Harry, who hadn’t even known his name properly until primary school. 

Morag quickly spit three times and spun in a circle anti-clockwise, in her position beside him. “As if I needed another reason to avoid him.” She said, lowly, her accent coming out from behind her usually studied and only lightly accented elocution. “He should nae speak badly or falsely of the Guid Neighbours. Nicnevin, the Gyre-Carline herself, will nae ha’e it.” She shuddered, and before Harry could ask, ran off toward the main doors. 

Harry knew he should walk away. He knew that Ron was just stirring it, looking for attention, but he couldn’t seem to make his feet move. He stood there, fighting with himself and listening to the story Weasley was telling, until the redhead claimed he had somehow been in league with You-Know-Who to kill his parents. No matter how ridiculous it was, Harry saw red, his wand in his hand before he even knew it. 

The next thing he knew he was being thrown back, nose bloody, with Professor McGonagall looming over him. “Mr. Potter, I am  _ appalled _ at your behaviour! Fifty points from Slytherin, a week of detention, and you are to march right down to your Head of House’s office for whatever other punishment he deems fit!”

Harry blinked. The crawling anger in his stomach was now gone, and Ronald Weasley looked like he was worse off. The thing was, Harry only barely remembered casting some of the hexes that he had learned, but he had obviously won. He swallowed hard.  _ What if he was evil? _

“Yes, Professor.”

* * *

Severus Snape was sitting at his desk, marking third year essays when the note from Minerva came through the floo, informing him that he should soon be joined by none other than Potter, explaining that he had gotten into a fight with a Gryffindor student, and had lost fifty points and gotten a week of detention for ‘unsavoury spellwork, duelling on the green, and attacking a fellow student.’

He sighed. The boy had actually applied himself to his work, and Aurora had glowing reports of his extracurricular lessons, but sometimes he wondered where Slytherin  _ subtlety _ had gone. So many of his students were lacking it. It made him despair even more than the rest of the dunderheads.

“Come in, Mr. Potter.” He intoned when the knock on his office door came.

Sure enough, the red-faced boy entered, staring at his shoes. “Professor McGonagall sent me, sir.” Harry said to the floor, feeling ashamed of himself. He had tolerated years of Dudley Dursley, why had he snapped so badly?

“Yes, I am aware.” Severus said dryly. “Sit, boy, tell me what in Salazar’s name made you attack someone  _ on the green _ ,  _ in front of more than half-a-dozen witnesses! _ ”

Harry’s shoulders curled in even more. “I...I don’t know, sir.” Harry said softly, hating that he was in trouble, especially with his Head of House. The man had given him his first picture of his mother, and here he was, getting a bad reputation and losing  _ fifty points _ for Slytherin.

“You. Don’t. Know.” Severus repeated, his voice even quieter, and almost scarier.

“I don’t even remember what I did.” Harry admitted, looking up at him. “I was just...so...so  _ angry _ . Weasley was telling this ridiculous story about how I wasn’t the  _ real _ Harry, that I was some sort of...of  _ changeling _ , then Morag ran off, and everyone was...was  _ looking _ at me..and then he said I was in league with You-Know-Who to kill my parents and I was so  _ angry _ ...like something eating me up. Next thing I knew, Professor McGonagall was taking points, giving me detention and sending me here.”

Severus frowned. It was hard, most of the time, to see Lily in the boy, to see  _ anyone _ but James Potter. The thing was, he knew that feeling. “Sit, Mr. Potter.” Severus said after a moment, wandlessly moving one of the chairs over to the desk for the boy.

Harry sat. He didn’t want to make whatever punishment Snape dreamed up even worse. The professor had made Pansy pick wings off dung beetles last week in a not-a-detention-detention. 

“Powerful emotions augment and fuel our magic, Mr. Potter. Your earliest bouts of magic, the things you never thought were magic, they always happened when you were feeling something, did they not?” Severus asked, pausing for Harry to nod. When the boy did, he resumed his seat. “Anger is very powerful, Mr. Potter, but very dangerous. Even the lightest spells cast in anger can cause harm. While emotion can fuel our magic. It is important that you learn  _ control _ . You do not want to become so accustomed to casting in anger that you find yourself needing to be angry in order to channel your magic.”

“It felt good, seeing what I did to Weasley.” Harry admitted.

“Was it worth it?” Severus asked, narrowing his dark eyes at the boy. 

“No.” Harry said quickly, thinking of the punishment to come. 

“Anger can be seductive, Mr. Potter.” Severus said, watching him closely. “The power you can get in that moment, the fear that power can cause in others can be addictive. That is why the Dark Arts can be so hard to escape. Many of the darkest spells are fueled by anger and hate, and that gratification that follows, that feel-good moment is enough to push someone to the next. You must not let anger control you, Mr. Potter.”

“Yes, sir!” Harry said, wide-eyed. 

“Instead of meeting with Aurora for the next three weeks, during your ‘extra classes,’ you will be meeting with me, here.” Severus intoned. “I will be teaching you to control your emotions. It is obviously a lesson you sorely need. It will  _ not _ be easy, and you will  _ not _ be getting tea and biscuits as you work. Is that understood, Potter?”

“Yes, sir!” Harry answered, eyes wide. 

“Good. Now go. And if you’re caught doing something like this again, I will personally see to it that you scrub every cauldron in this school with a  _ toothbrush! _ ” Severus snapped. 

Harry went. Severus found himself wondering how his life might have gone if someone had said something like what he had told Harry to him as a young boy. Perhaps he would not have spoken in anger and alienated Lily. Perhaps he would not have been so interesting to the older Slytherins and he would not have been drawn into their circle. Perhaps he would not have gone before the Dark Lord and whispered a prophecy, desperate to save his own skin after seeing what he and the rest of them truly were. 

But then, Horace had been uninterested in the poor, lanky, antisocial Severus Snape, especially after he had discovered that the young boy’s potion’s prowess was equaled only by his acerbic tongue, and Dumbledore was too busy cultivating his pride of lions. Poppy had cared, but she was a kind woman who couldn’t understand. 

He hadn’t been able to protect Lily, but he would make sure that her son didn’t follow his path to Hell. Even if he did look like Potter.

* * *

Aurora scrunched up her lips, tossing her ponytail of braids in annoyance. They were searching Quirinus’s office  _ yet again _ , and finding only half-written, garbled nonsense. “This is  _ pointless.” _ She grumbled. “The idiot still thinks it’s a Sorcerer's Stone and not a true Philosopher’s Stone hidden away. The man is mad. It’s even worse than when he taught Muggle Studies, and that was troll-level dragon dung.”

“The mad can be entirely too dangerous.” Severus countered. “He left for a sabbatical in Albania a stupid but somewhat competent Muggle Studies professor…”

“That's debatable.” Aurora grumbled. 

Severus ignored her. “And returned a stuttering numbskull who shook more than Christmas pudding.  _ Something _ happened. And then he’s suddenly interested in the Dark Arts class?”

“He  _ was _ a Ravenclaw.” Aurora pointed out. “I mean, Una and Tima were better, but still.”

Severus grunted slightly at that. “Perhaps. Something seems off, though. Hagrid reported something killing the unicorns.”

“Mars is strangely bright lately.” Aurora said thoughtfully. “I shall have to revisit my charts and factor that in. Something killing unicorns is hardly a simple thing, especially so close to the school.”

“Something is coming.” Severus agreed. He had no need of divination for that. “And the Headmaster thinks the boy is the answer.”

“The Headmaster can sling his hook.” Aurora said, stubbornly. “How’s Harry doing with his lessons?”

“How much water can a sieve hold?” Severus snarked back. “He is remarkably open.”

“Well, keep at it.” Aurora advised, holding up a piece of one of Quirrell’s turbans between two fingers. “Ugh, the smell of these. It reminds me of what they use in Morocco to embalm people.” She dropped it with a shudder.

“How do you even  _ know _ that?” Severus asked.

Aurora shrugged.

* * *

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams, especially in Defence Against the Dark Arts, when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox -- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made even the Slytherins nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since he had lost his temper at Weasley. Daphne thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves, and gave him arm squeezes to reassure him and smiles before class, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because for some reason Quirrell was there too, talking to someone he could never see.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager." Hermione and Draco always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, comparing points and trying to outdo one another. Daphne, however, was like Harry and had had enough of exams, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree.

They were all stretched out on the warm grass, even Hermione and Draco _not_ talking about school for the first time in weeks. Harry was trying to center himself, to clear his mind like Professor Snape suggested, but the pricking of the scar just meant he couldn’t  _ focus _ , which made him angry, and then that frustrated him that no matter how hard he practised he couldn’t get control of his own head.  "I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting -- it's happened before, but never as often as this." 

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested. 

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming...." He frowned. “I just...feel like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing, something I’ve forgotten.”

"That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one." Hermione admitted. 

“And even then I had to pull her hair.” Daphne giggled. 

Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Aurora and Hagrid were the only ones who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy... never... but -- Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. 

"Where're you going?" said Draco, rolling to a seated position.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now." 

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up. 

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

The other three Slytherins shared a look and chased after, summer heat suddenly forgotten.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl. "Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something.” Harry said, cutting off Daphne’s usual acceptance of the offer of hospitality. Manners didn’t matter right now. “You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

“Sounds like Father’s sort.” Draco murmured to the girls, who looked quite shocked at the idea. 

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head -- that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here.... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks.... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home.... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

"And did he -- did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to remember his lessons with Snape and keep himself calm.

"Well -- yeah -- how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep --" Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey -- where're yeh goin'?"

The four Slytherins were off like a shot toward the school. They didn’t speak at all until they were in the Entrance Hall. Harry turned and looked at his friends. “We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Quirrell or Voldemort under that cloak -- it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us.”

“If he doesn’t, Professor Snape will.” Draco said, confidently.

“Where's Dumbledore's office?" Daphne asked. 

Harry tried to remember the place from the day when he was added to the Quidditch team and tried to talk the Headmaster into letting Higgs stay Seeker. Just as he thought he did, though, a voice interrupted them. 

"What are you three doing inside?" It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harry swallowed -- now what? "It's sort of secret," he said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared. He had only wanted to avoid the suspicion from the Head of Gryffindor that he was some sort of evil thing, like the rest of Gryffindor bandied about.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once." Minerva said coolly.

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?" 

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time --” McGonagall continued.

"But this is important." Harry tried.

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?” Minerva said, doubt curling around her words. 

“No, thank you, ma’am.” Daphne said, with a tiny bob, putting a calming hand on Harry. “We’ll take it to our Head of House instead. We’re very sorry to bother you.” With a smile full of charm, she restrained Harry until the Scottish witch had harrumphed and left. 

It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Quirrell’s going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

Draco tapped Harry, who wheeled around. Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him. "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were --" Harry began, but Snape continued on.

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're  _ up to something _ . And I will be  _ very _ displeased if Slytherin loses any more points."

“Professor!” Hermione burst out. “Professor Quirrell has lured the Headmaster away from the school! He’s going to go after the Stone tonight!”

“Hagrid told him how to get past the Cerberus.” Daphne put in.

Snape stopped. He went so utterly still that for a moment Harry wasn’t even sure he was breathing. “Potter, go get Professor Sinistra. Tell her it’s time. Granger, go to Madam Pomfrey.” He reached into his robes and withdrew a parchment and quill, quickly writing something down. “Tell her I sent you, and that I require this. Be sure to wear your dragonhide gloves.” He looked at the remaining two of the quartet. Greengrass, go see if you can figure out where Quirrell is. Use those skills I know you have and don’t let him see you. We need to know if he seems ready to act. Draco, you come with me, we need to stop by my stores. We’ll all meet in the Common Room after dinner.”

Something about the brusque, almost military orders, along with the year of learning to obey that voice when it spoke had the four Slytherins scattering. Tonight, after dinner, the mystery would be solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognisable text belongs to JK Rowling.


End file.
